


The Iron Chain and The Silken Cord are Both Equally Bonds

by abgrn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, But is also Confused, Compulsions and Potions, Dom Harry Potter, Dumbledore is an evil git, Everyone has their angst, Harry's not much better tbh, Hurt/Comfort, Kreacher doesn't get paid enough for this, Kreacher is the only one with his shit together, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Bonds Are Cruel and Inconvenient, Master of Death Harry Potter, Master/Slave, Memory and Action Manipulation, Slave Tom Riddle, The Ministry of Magic is Corrupt (Harry Potter), The Ministry of Magic is Terrible (Harry Potter), Tom Is Traumatised, Tom is a Sweetheart, Tom is having a bad time in life, Torture, Waterboarding, but also angst, but he's dead sooooo, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abgrn/pseuds/abgrn
Summary: Harry was perfectly happy to live away from the Wizarding World in peace, only popping in through the Floo every now and then to make sure the world wasn't on fire because of another Ministry screw up. He didn't expect his peaceful life to come crashing down around his ears (like never before totally, honestly,) when the Ministry Of Magic decide to shove an enslaved Tom Riddle at him like 'Toodles here you go, Happy Birthday, take him off our hands again will you?'When faced with the only other living half of Dumbledore's life-ruining experiments, will Harry become the man the Ministry all expect him to be and make Tom regret cobbling together enough Horcruxes to stay alive (if one could call it that) or try mould a man out of the broken creature they fob on him?  Well... Harry's always had a 'saving people thing' and a weakness for pretty things...
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here's a new story because it's not like I have an outstanding chapter to finish or study to do..... Oh well, hope you enjoy! If there's any mistakes or anything pleaseee let me know because this was just an initially a feel good fluff story for myself to never ever be posted so....there might be the odd mistake and a helpful comment would be great!

**Chapter One**

Merlin Fuck his life, it was far too early for this. Harry stared at the woman in shock, desperate to hear her repeat the words that they’d dragged him from his perfectly pleasant hermit life at 7am for.

“I’m sorry he’s my what now?”

Alison Lumberton, Head of the Liaisons and Bonds Office grinned at Harry cheerfully before waving a perfectly manicured hand at the kneeling figure crouched on the ground.

“Why he’s your slave of course. After his trial yesterday the Wizengamont decided it was really the best decision. But don’t worry the bond really is quite secure. He can’t harm you in any way.”

“Yeah cause that’s what I was worried about.” Harry bit out sarcastically. Seriously, did nobody realise the wrongness of this? Now he really regretted taking a leave from the Wizarding World and point-blank refusing to take any part in the Death Eater trials for it meant he hadn’t knowing they were trying…him. Morgana in Hades this was so so wrong. The world he’d given his life and free will for now disgusted him to his core.

“And its done just like that? A slave bond sealed all snappy?”

She misread his sharp tone and hurried to reassure him. “But of course, if you don’t want him he’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

The crouched figure didn’t dare move a limb yet his eyes glanced up to meet Harry’s for just a split second and were filled with utter terror. He cleared his throat

“How so?”

“Ah well, we’ll simply return him to Azkaban to await the alternate sentence. Execution by the Old Chamber.” Her cheerfulness was making him homicidal and if she didn’t stop Harry was going to leap over the table and strangle her.

“He’ll be returned to Azkaban only briefly, but the sentence can be carried out within a week. The Unspeakables will make a special effort for him.”

Internally, Harry’s head spun with panic. The Old Chamber was essentially a death by torture execution, unimaginably painful and long, long outlawed. Harry only knew of its existence from the oldest bound book in the Black family library and that in itself was telling enough.

“I’ll take him then. What does this bonding entail exactly?”

“Oh all the steps are nearly complete it simply requires a blood exchange a little few words nothing else. He’s already been trained in. It’s the least we could do for you Mr Potter.”

One of the poor clerks who looked about as willing to be here as Harry shuffled his feet and corrected “Lord Potter.” Her smile became marginally frigid for a second as her lipstick stretched thinly.

Ignoring it, Harry thought he did absolutely not want to know what the rest of those steps were and judging by the shuddering form in front of him, they were nothing good. Merlin he was going to vomit.

“Right then. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” his brisk nod covered the complete panic impounding in him, ignored through years of abuse and war and horror and ignored now because damnit couldn’t Harry just be a hermit in peace please. All the blame for it all conceivable just lain at the feet of the man in front of him when Harry knew in his heart that wasn’t the case, knew that if he could tell his own suspected truth the whole of magical society would likely be in ruins. It was easier for them perhaps to lay the blame and punishment on a Riddle who didn’t even have a clue where he was if a terror-filled clouded haze was any indication, let alone how to kill a man or run a fucking terrorist group. But fine, Harry was an expert at the long con by now anyway and losing his shit right now would certainly destroy it. If a slave bond was what it took then he would bloody well suck it up. Still nothing about this stuck right with him, and yet he held out his hand anyway.

Riddle was hauled roughly to his feet by the Azkaban guards, looking like the grip on his clothes-rags really-was the only thing keeping him standing. He was hunched, shorter even than Harry and looking completely blank faced yet he radiated fear. Harry couldn’t look away, not even when both their blood was drawn, Harry’s taken and healed much more gently then the still bleeding cut on Riddles palm, and imbued into a metal band, (a collar Harry realised a split second later with a lurching stomach).

Lumberton offered it to Harry with a big smile, her teeth big and white with lipstick intact and bright red. Harry prayed his hands weren’t shaking as the collar opened at his touch and allowed him to hastily place it on the pale throat forcibly bared to him by the Azkaban guard. His grip on Riddles hair was tight, surely painfully so, but not a thing showed on his face except overwhelming gratitude as Harry repeated the phrases shown to him on an innocuous piece of parchment, the black etchings like a recipe and not a guide to signing someone’s life away.

Harry gritted his teeth. “You can let him go now.” The guard did, literally let him go and Riddle fell to floor in a heap no way graceful, managing to land near Harrys feet and whisper a hoarse dry acknowledgement of “My Lord.”

Harry swallowed twice and, even though the boy wasn’t looking at his face, nodded. Lumberton clapped her hands brightly, clearly not reading the dead tone in the room and said “Excellent, excellent Lord Potter. That collar is the insurance for the bond, the main force of your control really. No escaping, running away, no use of magic without your explicit permission, or at all if you wish of course. It was taken care of by the Unspeakables department.”

Here she gave a childish giggle reminding Harry so much of Umbridge he fought hard not flinch and he saw Riddle lose a similar battle by his feet.

Unminding, she continued on; “It will enforce your orders during the settling period based off the bond while its stabilising. Though of course you can administer your own punishment as can any other lord or lady demand one if there is an public infraction.”

She seemed all too pleased with this and didn’t even flinch when Harry said coolly

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Of course, of course. Well, it’s all here in the guidebook, but if there’s any trouble at all you simply bring him back and we’ll be more than happy to whip him back into shape for you.” As she finished her simpering, Harry swallowed bile and straightened his shoulders.

“Well if that will be everything?”

“Oh indeed, we’ll leave you to get acquainted.” The guards took this as queue and left, Lumberton gliding by to hold the door open for him afterwards.

“C’mon then.” Harry murmured to a pale looking Riddle. “Up you get, and let’s get out of here.”

He stood on shaky feet, already trembling from exhaustion and kept his head bowed as he followed Harry through the silent ministry halls. Thankfully, mercifully they met not a soul, being the hour it was so late at night-they'd kept him waiting for hours for this shit- and as they approached the Floo, Harry found he couldn’t plant his feet there fast enough.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They settle in, Kreacher needs a coffee, Tom needs a chill pill and Harry wants to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Chapter Two wohooo. I have only some of this fic prewritten but sure look, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it. Hope you all like it, if there's any mistakes feel free to point them out! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Two**

As green fire engulfed them and spat them out the other side, Harry struggled to control his nausea that wasn’t totally due to his complete inadequacy in using magical transportation. Riddle, however, looked in much worse shape, huddled on the floor, green around the gills and swaying only slightly as he tried to straighten into a proper kneeling position. The chains bound tight on his arms likely did nothing to aid this, given the forced unnatural position they were pulling his limbs in, and Harry almost winced in sympathy. He hummed and hawed, debating for an eternal minute before sighing.  
“All right, look, if I take those off, are you gonna try strangle me or something? That really won’t end well for both of us.”  
Riddle looked up in a flash, startled, his neck snapping as he did so. 

“No, no master, I swear. I couldn’t even if I did want to.” No lying man could sound so hopelessly desperate with a voice that hoarse; like it was unused for anything but screaming for months on end, his words tumbling out messy and inarticulate.  
Harry inhaled again and flopped down on the nearest couch-his favourite, by the fire. He cracked open the guidebook with a withheld shudder of disgust and was much pleased to find the key taped to the inside.

“Alright then. Come on over.” It made something in Harry’s stomach coil to see Riddle shuffle over on his knees, looking like a unsure baby faun, with no idea if Harry would keep his word at all. Harry intended to prove that wrong and firmly decided then and there that he wouldn’t be one of those people. He wouldn’t take out his grief for those he’d lost on Riddle. Because it wouldn’t fix anything and given how Dumbledore had played the both of them, it wouldn’t be fair. And Harry had known enough unfairness in his life to know that while Tom was not irresponsible for his actions, the path that led him there was most certainly not one of his own choosing.

He jimmied the key in the little hole for a few seconds before it sounded a defeated click and fell free. The relief Harry expected didn’t come when he caught sight of the state of Riddles wrists. They were bruised and cut, little blisters appearing like some sick looking Seelie ring. And as his sleeves slipped further down his arms, Harry was furious to note that the other skin he could see was not much better, mottled and bruised the whole way up.

Riddle kept his head bowed down low, but it wasn’t enough for his uneasy “Thank you Master.” to go unnoticed. It wasn’t until Harry placed a gentle hand on his still together and outstretched forearms, on the only bruise free spot of skin he could see did Riddle drop his arms down to his sides.  
“You’re very welcome.” Harry murmured in response, now staring at the book in his lap. Revulsion coated his skin and knew he couldn’t sit here and read through the horrors he’d only gotten a glimpse of with Riddle on his knees right there.

“You remember who I am?”  
“You’re Lord Potter sir.”  
Harry sighed and Tom hunched his shoulders further.  
“I’m sorry master, I don’t remember everything I-I’ll try harder I’m sorry! Please.”  
“Its alright. They did say your memories were jumbled and I’m sure I don’t want to know how they figured that out.”  
Tom flinched again, remembering in vivid detail-ironically his brain was all too quick to fire those neurons-how the guards had tried to jog his memory back when he hadn’t even known what a death eater was. The hooded robed figure (An Unspeakable) who’d come to see him had come to the conclusion that he currently existed as an amalgamation of all his Horcruxes and that’s why his memories were jumbled. Tom had been choking on his blood at the time and hadn’t been able to chime in that he was fairly certain a good portion of the amnesia was the web of compulsions Dumbledore dumped on him mixed with dosed potions that were a bad bad combination. He thinks he remembers duelling the man in front of him, in Hogwarts’ walls, for that’s where his memories were the clearest. In his home, with so many reams of protective magic the compulsions struggled to take effect and his mind had fought to be clear. 

“I-we-we fought?” Tom asked hesitantly. It was a good bet he thought. The guards had made it sound like he murdered the entire population singlehandedly and all of them had fought him at one point. Though given their later ribbing of one another on their tales…perhaps not.  
“Are you asking me or telling me?” his master’s tone was amused, and Tom stared at him blankly.  
“A-asking master.” He bowed his head respectfully, praying he’d remembered right and it wasn’t a fever dream.  
“Then you’d be correct. You also killed my parents.”

He had what?! Toms head snapped up in horror. He had done despicable things, he’d gathered that much but… to orphan a child. To make more of himself, broken lost children with nowhere to come from and nowhere to go was awful.  
“I-I-I’m sorry.” Tom’s mind was awhirl, wondering why on Earth the man had taken him and not just let him face his punishment. Unless.. Unless it was because he had punishment of his own planned. That must be it. Some personal retribution. Oh Saints.  
The fire on hearth crackled far too loudly in the silent room as Tom closed his eyes and waited for the pain to swallow him.

Harry stared down at the greasy mop of black curls below him and was glad he was almost alone to gape to an empty room. Tom Riddle… apologising? For a crime he clearly didn’t remember even committing. Harry didn’t know why it seemed to horrify him so, when he clearly remembered bits of being the Dark Lord he used to be. But nonetheless Harry would do what he would always do and push forward regardless. He shook himself from his reverie and clapped his hands together, the noise making Riddle flinch. 

“Right, I’d reckon you want to get outta of those clothes eh? Let’s get you into the shower now hmm?” He stood and was pleased to see Riddle hastily do so aswell. Harry reached out his hands prepared to help if his legs gave out but he seemed relatively stable for now, even if it was just the adrenaline.  
As he was followed at a careful distance up the stairs-and Merlin the man hadn’t made a goddamn sound-Harry made sure to slow his footsteps and give Riddle time to map the way and look around him if he wanted to do so. He chose not to check behind him, not knowing quite how he’d feel if a once so proud head was still bent in deference even when he couldn’t see.

He thanked Merlin for his foresight in having Kreacher make the room up a few weeks ago and having it now clean and fresh if a bit chilly and impersonal.  
Harry cleared himself from these thoughts and turned to look at a nervous Riddle, loitering in the doorway like a suspicious teenager. “Showers through that door, stocked with towels, clothes, soap the whole gig so just...take your time, yeah? I’ll see you when you’re ready.”  
Even his gentle tone didn’t seem to relax the man anyway as he whispered a uncertain “Yes m’lord.” and shuffled forward when Harry stepped aside.

Harry would forever deny running down the stairs but his speed was certainly a record and as he collapsed into the arm chair, he groaned. What the actual fuck was he supposed to do now? He’d start by taking care of the base needs, hygiene, clothes, food and sleep. The food would be tricky but luckily, or not really, Harry had experience in recovering from malnutrition. Because he highly doubted anyone had actually fed Riddle properly after the final battle for the whole duration of his Azkaban sentence. Harry desperately wanted to know, yet definitely didn’t, what they did to the man in seven years to make him so damn subservient to the man who’d nearly killed him and vice versa.

It was time to call in the big guns. “Kreacher!” the house elf popped in with a scowl.  
“How can Kreacher be serving Master Harry of House Black?”  
“Err listen Kreacher there’s a little, uh, situation.”  
“Kreacher is aware of Master Harry’s Dark Lord Slave sized situation.”  
Harry sighed. “Of course, you are. Look I gather he’s not been treated all that well, so could you eh you know work your magic pretty please?”  
Now it was Kreachers turn to sigh.  
“Kreacher will prepare the same diet for masters slave as he did for master when master was sticky and bony and pointy.” He wagged a gnarled finger at Harry and continued  
“And whilst Kreacher cooks Master Harry will read and will learn how to take care of a slave and not be a stupid Gryffindor and kill master and slave, oh no Kreacher will not allow it, if Kreacher must beat Master Harry over the ear with pamphlet!”

Harry was sure the last bit was not entirely meant for his ears, but he grinned anyway.  
“Thanks Kreacher, you’re the best.” Kreacher just harrumphed in response and popped away. His procrastinating halted, Harry scowled at the book lying innocently on the floor and bend down to crack it open.  
And nearly promptly vomited. Good Merlin the suggestions in this book. Whilst it did have some advice, such as that Tom would need orders and such to keep him busy and keep the oath intact along with regular checks and discipline if needed-that in itself made Harry dizzy with anger-the sheer volume of worse suggestions was immense. 

So much of it was sexual and while Harry would never say he had problems giving orders in bed (as he had discovered about himself in his wild time of freedom turned isolation over the last few years) and the appearance of a twenty something Tom Riddle was no object, the lists and tales in this book were disgusting.  
Ordering a slave to do demeaning and sexual things, often impossible, and then punishing and jeering them when it became clear they would never succeed. Clearly consent meant nothing to these scumbags; it made Harry’s blood boil and he tightened his control, lest the book burst into flames. The panic over the cosmic task ahead of him was very real and Harry groaned again, still wondering what he was to do.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first slip up in a long line.... Tom has hurt. And angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! This chapter is super long coz I wasn't sure where to break it but if there's any mistakes lemme know and let me know what you think! Enjoy

**Chapter Three**

Unbeknownst to Harry, Tom was having a very similar problem a floor above him. He watched the rust coloured grime swirl down the drain and leaned his head against the wall. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t even though he tried and short of hitting his damn head against the wall, he couldn’t see how anything would become clearer. What was this Lord Potter doing? It was highly possible of course that he only wanted Tom clean for the sake of not infecting himself with anything if he was to take a page out of the guards book and subdue him that way. Tom was determined to give him no reason to do so otherwise. He would be good, he would be quiet and goddamned grateful for anything he was given because he had been so sure that he would just condemn him to death right then and there. It seemed his mercy knew no bounds and Tom was convinced he would not push them. It wasn’t hard to kneel for the man who had spared your life after all. 

This also was, incidentally, the longest time since he’d arrived in that godforsaken cell that he’d been pain free. Or rather, fresh pain free. His body was still riddled-hah-with bruises and he winced uncontrollably every time he moved his legs, pain shooting up his spine. At least the bleeding had stopped. His wrists stung like the blazes and looked about as infected as a 1350s plague infested street. His new master had taken the horrid handcuffs off the second they’d arrived in…. wherever they were and to what end Tom didn’t know but was so thankful nonetheless. His stomach was taut and shrunken, though he could feel the beginnings of swelling as the lack of food took its toll on his body. It had seemed as time went on, that no matter how he performed for his food, he was less and less deserving of it.

He only shuddered thinking of what he would have to do to earn some now. As this trail of thought took over, panic rose unbidden in his throat. Short of killing him, if that was what he wanted, there was a lot master could do to him after all. He suspected the house was heavily warded so that meant any number of the dark curses were open, along with more physical methods that his master might prefer having grown up muggle, as Tom had discovered only recently spotting the odd muggle paraphernalia as he climbed the stairs. This also meant his master had Whips, knives, belts and any other number of muggle contraptions available to him and anything he wanted, the ministry would be only too happy to oblige, hell they’d probably give him the good quality stuff for free. He could only hope and pray for a set of guidelines or at least a sense of what Lord Potter liked and didn’t like. What was he to do if his master thought he was being too good and trying to be manipulative or hiding something or Mercy Lewis the possibilities were endless and hopeless. He would never trust him and Tom would never have another slice of peace like this one.

He tilted his head back a little one last time to rinse the rest of the soap and was mindful not to put his face under, knowing all to well what that felt like, having become well familiar with the joys of waterboarding. He stopped the spray, relieved all wizarding showers controlled the same, with far too many taps to be necessary, and stepped out. He almost forgot his earlier orders and stood there shivering for a good ten minutes, expecting Potter to come and… well something anyway. It was with a scramble that he rushed for a towel, cursing his addled brain and the stupid, brilliant bond that was the only thing standing between him and a painful death for as long as his master willed it. In his scramble for a towel he vastly underestimated the moisture gathered on the tiles and yelped as his feet slid from under him and sent him crashing to the floor.

He didn’t take time to lay there, though his vision was swirling and nausea bubbled in his stomach. He hauled himself up and snatched the towel from the hot rail. This proved to be another horrible move, as in doing so, he saw double and swayed and then in the most graceful of moves, placed his hand smack on the hot rail. The reaction was so delayed to his brain by the time the pain struck it was agonising and already blistering, looking much like welts on the soles of his feet. Fuck. And to say nothing of the floor where a little puddle of blood was spreading and staining the floor. The white floor. Which Tom hurriedly patted with the towel. Which was also white. Good Saint Peter himself, could this possibly get any worse? The stain mostly cleared yet was still enough to look murky and dirty, the red rusted colour reminiscent of Toms old cell. 

Tom swallowed bile in his throat and resigned himself to his fate. He managed to dry himself with the cleaner part of the towel and crawled out to the bedroom. The clothes laying on the bed were possibly the nicest things he’d ever seen. Soft and loose, even the underwear which nearly made him lose it and burst into tears, they were a godsend and he almost hesitated before grabbing, sure they could not conceivably be for him. He managed to pull them on, backwards and haphazardly but on, and swallow again, looking at the towel curled up in his hand. 

Surely there was no way to hide it so the only option was the opposite one. Tom’s mind was blank as he stumbled down the stairs, his feet taking him, partly from memory and partly from the collars magic to where his master awaited him. It did him no good, he couldn’t think of a single way, grovelling or not, his master would forgive him. Managing to fuck it all up he first hour. That had to be a record for God’s sake. Everything, including his heart, came to a stop as he reached the parlour door, seeing it slightly ajar. He hunched his shoulders, the collar feeling heavy around his neck with the metal already dried, and stepped in. It took him 3 strides to reach his master, not daring to look up as he sank to his knees in defeat, half grateful to the temporary relief as his vision dotted when he dropped, and presented his master with the towel.

Harry almost didn’t hear the movement at the door, Riddle still as quiet as mouse, but it was the extended creaking that clued him in. The shower had stopped running quite a while ago and yet nothing in Harry’s gut told him to be suspicious or angry, nothing was afoot or wrong that he knew of so far. The collar was, apparently, supposed to counteract all that. He made a point to not look up as Tom entered the room and when the air stopped shifting he glanced up and leapt right out his seat. The red on white of the towel was startling as was the shaking, pale form of the man holding it.

“I’m sorry master, I’m so so sorry I didn’t mean to ruin it master, I-I was just-the-the floor-”  
“Hush, hush, slow down and breathe alright.” Harry soothed, the instinctual panic gone and concern taking its place.  
“What happened?” He directed, bending down to look closer. Tom was paler than before and his eyes were slightly unfocused as though he couldn’t see properly.  
“I-I I slipped master. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to dirty your floor I’ll clean it up I promise.”

“You slip-where?!” Harry demanded, feeling seriously worried now; that was a lot of blood for a slip.  
“In-in the bathroom master.” Tom hunched his shoulders further, bowing his head and that’s when Harry noticed it. Some slightly darker strands of hair and little dribble of red trailing down his neck.  
Shit. A head wound.  
“Ah, alright then, OK. Nice and easy now.”  
He brought his head around the back of the Tom’s head, who flinched minutely, but otherwise didn’t move and felt around gently. “OK it looks like you have a little concussion I’d say. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” When Tom murmured triple what the answer should be and swayed just slightly, Harrys eyes widened in alarm and he hooked an arm around Tom to keep him steady. 

“Hey there now, stay awake for me ok?”  
He requested gently, seeing Tom’s eyes flutter like mad and his head droop a little.  
“Yes master m’sorry.” Tom was panting as he struggled to lift his head and that did it. Harry summoned potion after potion and opened them with a pop. It was slightly unhealthy to medicate without consulting a healer but the only one he trusted wouldn’t be home for a bloody month so this would have to suffice.

He placed them to Tom’s mouth with no amount of gentleness and demanded “Swallow.”  
Tom flinched again but obeyed immediately, his eyes flashing wide open when the potion entered his mouth, like it was the last thing he’d expected. When both vials were empty, Harry hummed and patted his hair, pleased he’d likely averted a very real crisis.  
“Good boy. You did real good, Tom okay? Just give them a second to kick in.”  
Harry kept his hand on Tom’s head, to feel the sealing of the wound, or so he told himself, and was pleased to feel it knit together and deflate within minutes. Now all he was left with was the blood in his hair. 

He murmured for Kreacher to get him a cloth and when a bowl of warm water and a soft face cloth appeared beside him, affection swelled in his heart for the little elf. His left hand still cupping Tom’s head, the man still trembling, he used his right to soak the cloth in the water and then to bring it up towards him.  
Something akin to sheer dread appeared on Tom’s face and Harry felt a shudder go through him, then frowned. What did Tom think he was going to do with it?  
As Tom tilted his face upwards, eyes watering slightly, Harry jolted as the realization struck him. Did Tom really think he was going to just shove that cloth over his face. Good Grief no. 

“Just to wash all the blood off ok?” He used his hand to push Tom’s head forward again and felt absolutely no resistance. He placed the cloth on the back of the dark hair and ran it through just a few times, pleased to see it come up and clean again with the strand shiny and repaired. Merlin bless hair reparative shampoo. 

Harry found himself, minutes later, rubbing one hand through Tom’s hair on the top of his head while the other stroked a cleansing path down to his neck. Toms eyes were still mercifully closed so he didn’t see the look of shock on Harry’s face, while his hands were still clutching the eerie, bloodied towel like a lifeline, so hard in fact that his paper-thin skin nearly gave way to squeezing white knuckles. 

“Hey there, you can let that go now OK?” Harry gave a gentle tug at the towel and Tom let go immediately, his eyes sharper and more focused though they didn’t linger on Harry’s face. It was when Harry moved the towel away and banished it to the laundry that he glimpsed a long red mark on Tom’s palm.  
Reminding himself not to yell and freak, he steeled his voice and demanded “Tom, are you hurt anywhere else?”  
Tom inhaled sharply and opened and closed his mouth a few times before curling into himself more than Harry would have though possible.  
“Do. Not. Lie to me. It will not end well if you do. I’m only going to heal it all up I promise. I don’t want to have to do a diagnostic scan.” Privately he thought he just might anyway, and pursed his lips as Tom shuddered. He was clearly unwilling to answer or unsure of what exactly constituted as an injury, if he was even aware of his own body right now, due to exhaustion and, judging by stuck out ribs, starvation too.  
“I’ll tell you what, I reckon you’re about as sure about this as I am, so why don’t we have a spot of dinner and you can take a quick stock of exactly how you feel while you eat?”  
He was hungry and despite his attempt to make dinner more casual and stop Tom’s impending panic on his injuries, Harry wasn’t sure it would work, judging by the look of utter confusion on Tom’s face. Yeah, things were going too fast for Harry too. As his stomach rumbled, he reminded himself of the importance of Tom eating after downing those potions. They were doubtlessly unpleasant on an empty stomach and Harry would feel a thousand times better knowing Tom was a step further away from starving to death under his watch. For now. Besides how wrong could dinner go?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets a little hysterical and Harry takes this chance to confirm a few theories..... (A little light is shed on the background of this little au).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Four**

Harry stood gracefully, though his knees cracked a little and beckoned up for Tom to rise with him. He kept his hand low enough so Tom could see the gesture and winced when Tom bolted to his feet and stumbled just a little. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself lunging and just carrying Tom to the table as it likely would not be well received. Tom still thought he was in trouble for the towel after all, not to mention dodging the injuries question, and wasn’t that something to investigate, fucking aurors as better guards my ass, so Harry thought it best to not make any sudden movements quite yet. He remembered with vivid clarity the fear that someone was going for his head or a belt and his stomach and how hard he would clench to not drop to the floor. Yeah he wouldn’t put Tom through that if he could help it. Which he could. Because technically he owned Tom now. Great. He’d nearly forgotten. 

They entered the kitchen, the dingy ancient family room revamped and remodelled so every inch of anything old was gone, the house now a strange, cobbled mix of muggle and magical. Harry made a beeline for his usual seat and took note of the steaming bowl of soup opposite his own plate. He’d just sat down when Tom slunk to his knees beside the chair, his expression now inscrutable, even as his knees cracked on the hard tiled floor and his stomach growled loud enough to be heard in Kentucky. 

Right. Straight and blunt it was. “Tom.” The direct annotation of his name made Tom look up at a Harry warily and croak out “Yes master?”  
“I want you to sit at the table, that seat right there and eat however much of that you can. Not to the point of making yourself sick mind, but enough. Clear?”

He could tell it very much wasn’t clear even though Tom nodded and stumbled over like a blind baby deer to the seat and stared at the spoon like it might bite him. Harry noticed that, when he did eventually pick it up, he used his non dominant hand the other being the one with the burn on it. That was about all he had time to notice as Tom began to shovel ladles worth of soup into his mouth in record time, a hand wrapped tightly around the bowl. He ate with a single-minded focus that Harry remembered and it was those memories that drove him to clear his throat, as he looked down at the paper by his elbow. 

“Slow down, don’t choke it won’t be taken away.” He kept his tone mild and timed it with a flick of paper and was pleased to note the miniscule sounds that came with Tom eating slowed to a much more manageable pace. Tom seemed to be far more compliant than Harry had initially suspected and he still hadn’t made up his mind on whether he liked it that way or not. There was an anger brewing there surely and if he was honest Harry would rather deal with that now than later. Without knowing the nature of his issues Harry doubted he could effectively plan for his recovery and could only go off Toms own actions, which were bound to be mixed and unpredictable at best, though surprisingly had not been violent in the least. 

Aside from not revealing his injuries, Tom had obeyed every order given to him and had confessed immediately about his slip, though that hadn’t been for concern for his own safety which would have to change. Mind made up and rules set in place, Harry flicked through the last article in the Quibbler as his plate emptied and all noise from the other side of the table halted. 

Tom’s breathing grew a little heavy and Harry looked up alarmed. His face was red and twisted as he internally debated, and it was disgustingly fascinating to watch him decide to drop to his knees again and say “Thank you for the meal master. How-how may I repay you?”  
It was sickening but Harry knew how to not waste a good opportunity.   
“By behaving yourself, doing as you’re told.”   
Tom shivered, knowing this was a reference to his delay in his last order.   
“I-I will master.”  
“Oh I’m sure, how are you feeling now? Where hurts?”  
“I don’t know.” This was hissed, dark and frustrated and Tom reached a hand up to tug through his long unruly hair, making it stand up and highlight the madness in his eyes.   
“How about fucking everywhere?” Tom leapt to his feet and Harry stood too and watched as Tom paced like a caged animal, his voice high and hysterical as he rambled, unaware of what he was saying or who he was saying it to. “I’m well aware I deserve nothing less so I don’t know what you’re playing at! Wouldn’t you rather see me dead? Or what, is it like what they said, that death isn’t good enough for a sick freak like me? That even the devil won’t take me?”   
Harry got the impression that they were talking about different people now, somehow, even as he winced when Tom made a sound not unlike a howl and pushed the plate of food forcefully off the table.   
“I didn’t exactly ask for this either.” He said dryly, otherwise unmoving, not wanting an obvious rant a long time coming to be interrupted and merely raised an eyebrow when Tom fell silent. 

“Most wizards don’t believe in the muggle Christianity you know.” Harry mused casually after a minute of the same stunned silence in which Tom stared at his hands, face struck with horror and fear of the punishment likely coming his way in catastrophic proportions. Harry scanned his nails with an exterior bored indifference whilst internally he was screaming. This could be his chance. Harry had always been as much of a bleeding heart as his survival instinct would allow.   
“What do you remember after leaving Dumbledore office after that teaching interview Tom?”

Tom’s rage seemed to falter for just a second “Wh-what are you talking about?”  
“You gonna answer my question?”  
“I killed your parents, those you love, raped murdered and pillaged why on earth would you-”  
“No, I don’t think you did.” Harry kept his voice calm and clenched his trembling hands.   
“Oh so you spend 10 minutes in my company and suddenly I’m an innocent baby lamb you can save, is that right? No offence master but I think the decision about my salvation has already been had.”  
Harry snorted, he couldn’t help himself. “I wouldn’t go quite that far now. I know quite well what you are Tom, I was in your head don’t you know. And that’s when things started to get a bit weird. It was a mess in there and there was no recollection of that massive fight we’d just had. Or of that vision ‘you’ sent me. No. No all I felt was fear. But seeing as you didn’t answer my first question, here’s another, you didn’t say a word during your trial, why?”  
Tom sneered but he looked uncertain, his eyes bug wide in his face, cheekbones mirroring those of a skull and long body too hunched to be healthy.   
“I’ll tell you why I think shall I?”  
“Do as you wish master.”  
The sneered title hardly bothered him so he continued, “I bet as they listed crime after crime, you couldn’t think of anything to say in defence of what you did because you didn’t know you’d done it, am I close yet?”

Something about this seemed to break Tom down and his legs shook. “I see their faces at night, I see it, I see their blood down my hands, I see my hands casting it, spell after spell but I didn’t mean to and when I was awake sometimes I felt so sick and it was my blood everywhere in my hands from my stomach and I was so angry. I tried and I tried to kill him but Severus got there first. And when, when he was gone I woke up a little and they all said you knew that Harry Potter was the key all we needed was for Harry Potter to die and I thought, I thought it would go away, I thought-” Tom did fall to his knees now. “I used to feel his magic all over me, in Azkaban, crawling all over my skin, making me remember what I did. And they all followed me they all worshipped me! How could they?! I was a monster! I am a monster.” Tom curled into himself now, rolling into foetal position and sobbing. 

Harry felt his heart crumble just a little before anger consumed him. Anger at Dumbledore who was such an egotist he couldn’t live without a villain to fight, anger at the ministry, unfair and corrupted to its foundation, and their society as a whole once so amazing and bright to him now was sickening and dull to the core. But mostly the anger was at the injustice of it all. This bond was for life, it didn’t matter if they got Tom a trial or even a pardon he was bound to Harry till he died and Harry would well outlive him, if the Hallows were any indication. Harry closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the stress leave his body minutely with the release of air. 

He crouched over to Tom and whispered “Hey there. C’mon Tom its alright now. Look-look if you want me to I swear I’ll go to the ministry and I’ll fight to get you heard on this. We can-we can use your memories I have some of mine own maybe-”  
The litany of broken apologies stopped as Tom said dully “No. It won’t matter anyway. You know that. But it’s very kind of you to offer sir.”  
The use of a title seemed to snap Tom back to reality and he lay on the ground, tears pouring down his cheeks. 

Harry had never felt so helpless in his life. He slowly moved Tom’s head onto his knee and ran his hand through the boys hair. “I know. I know this sucks, so much. We’re stuck together in this you and me ok, so we’re gonna make it work. I’m gonna take care a you I promise.” His soothing vow caused Tom to stiffen imperceptibly. Had he not been carefully monitoring him, Harry would never have noticed it. He absently wondered why the collar didn’t punish Tom for his outburst. Harry had accepted it the second it had begun to happen so maybe that was why.   
“What’s up hm? Not good enough insurance for you?”  
“No, master, its just, no one’s ever said they’ll take care of me before. Not in a good way.” He murmured this so quietly and so unsurely Harry wanted to coo at him and wrap him up in a blanket forever.  
“Well I will. In every way you want me to. That sound good? I promise no one will ever mess with your head again. At least magically anyway. I don’t know about Kreacher’s cooking.”  
Tom actually giggled into Harry’s thigh and it made him snort with laughter until they looked like two madmen, on the floor surrounded by the remnants of an argument and laughing.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to do some healing and with that comes a necessary trigger warning for mentions of rape and assault. If you think it should be marked or anything, just let me know in the comments. Many thanks my lovelies xx

**Chapter Five**

When the silence grew unbearable, Harry spoke again, the weariness flooding his bones.

“What do you say to hopping up to bed now, and getting a good night’s sleep? We can talk about some rules and stuff in the morning.”

Tom sat up and looked at Harry warily. “But-you’re not going to punish me? I- I shouted at you.” His face morphed into one of utter dread. “Oh Holy Mary Mother of God, I shouted at you, and-and I broke that plate, I’m so so sorry please.”

“Shhhshh it’s alright. Well it’s not it was bratty and I like those plates but I understand and I’ll let it go for today, ok ? You’re not to do it again. Ever.”

“Wont master. Pr’mise.” Was mumbled into his leg and Harry would make do with that.

“There’s a good boy. Now, a small night time drink before sleep, hm? Let’s get you up the stairs.”

When Harry sat down on Tom’s bed, Tom knelt at his feet without prompting and then opened his mouth hesitantly.

“How-how did you know it was him? I could have just been crazy. I mean no one ever really believed me when I said he wasn’t a hero.”

“He messed with me too. Nothing so bad as what he did to you but-“ Harry shrugged “it was enough to disillusion me once I had time. I don’t think he expected either of us to have time to realise and anyway he knew when he died we could never discredit a dead man.”

Tom listened silently and then, with the courage of a Gryffindor, shuffled forward and lay his head on Harry’s leg.

“I’m sorry anyway. I know some of it wasn’t all him and I’m sorry for what I did. I know it’ll never be enough for those who’ve lost people but it eats me up inside.”

“I know. But hey, I forgive you, will that do?” Harry was glad he put a note of humour into his voice when Tom looked at him in shock.

“You do?”

“I do now. It’s been a while. I’ve worked through it. Therapy didn’t, ya know, magically heal me but it helped.”

Tom murmured a breathless “Wow.” But said no more and didn’t fight when Harry placed a hand on his head. He grinned in delight when two steaming mugs popped up and eagerly handed one to Tom.

The look in Tom’s eyes as he sipped the milky honey, cinnamon concoction would power a patronus, as filled with childish awe and delight as it was.

It was only for a second before he schooled his features and said “Thank you master.”

“You’re very welcome. That should make you nice and sleepy so I’ll rub a salve on anything that hurts just before you sleep, does that sound alright?” Harry made sure it was phrased as a genuine question but knew Tom wouldn’t refuse him again tonight.

His hands tightened on the mug, evident from the little distance between them born when Tom had moved to take his drink, the only thing portraying his nerves at the prospect. As they sipped in silence, a calmness intruded the air and Harry almost felt content, were it not for the sheer weirdness of the whole day. And Lord it had only been a day. What a long long 12 hours it had been.

Tom offered back the empty mug soon enough with a shaking hand and Harry eased it from his grip with the tenderness of an animal trainer careful not to spook a charge.

“Let’s see about all those hurts shall we?”

Tom swallowed and nodded, biting his lip.

“Okay let’s make this easy. Stand up for me and point to where hurts. Even a tiny injury like a little scrape is not too small, understood?”

“I-I understand master.”

“I know it’ll be hard but I would rather you sleep pain free under my roof.”

Privately, Tom wondered how long that would last, even if he was lucky enough to have his outburst tonight ignored.

Raising a trembling hand, the boy gestured to his arms, wrists, knees, head, hesitating at his neck but then touching it where it lay hidden under the collar, briefly at Harry’s cooing encouragement. There wasn’t an area left untouched it seemed as a brief motioning to his back belied more pain than indicated, as well as feathered touches to both sets of ribs before finally his hands came to rest on his stomach, fingers fluttering a mile a minute.

“Anywhere else?” Harry questioned softly, his voice not betraying the tidal wave of anger that threatened to drown him. Tom dropped his eyes even further down.  
“Please Tom. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, darling, I understand I promise.”

Tom seemed to take the words to heart, because he lifted a frail hand, brought it all the way behind his back and ever so gently hovered over his arse.  
Harry saw red in his vision, the red blood of the guards staining their crimson uniforms. It was a fantasy quickly pushed aside because now Tom looked sick.

“They couldn’t break me, not really, even at the start when I was real confused nothing they did worked. I mean they weren’t asking questions or nothin it was just bout hurtin me I think. But Auror-Auror McM-Millan had a three week shift and said he missed his wife, I think he was drinking or-or on opiates maybe but word got around and I got so desperate. I-I was hungry master I’m sorry I know I shouldn’t have let them, and I scratched and bit n everything but he whacked my head and I was so Confused again, like before and I didn’t I didn’t-”

He choked off in sobs and Harry dropped to his knees beside him as Tom flinched away, doubtlessly unsure as to why he was even spilling all this to Harry at all.

Harry’s heart bled and he hummed gently in his throat, knowing all the soothing comforts in the world weren’t going to be enough. But maybe a good night’s sleep would help them both for a start. All he really wanted to do was bundle a crying Tom into his arms and cuddle him to sleep but they weren’t quite there just yet.

“You did nothing wrong and I swear I’ll make them pay, I promise pet.”

He reached out for Tom’s hair again rather surprised when Tom allowed and even shuffled forward, his cheeks more stained with tears than an emo music video.

“You can’t master, no one will ever convict no matter what they did to me.” The misery in Tom’s voice was only because what he said was the truth.

“Ah but I said nothing about court now did I.” Harry muttered viciously. Instead of helping the situation it seemed to only make it worse as Tom’s body heaved with panic.

“No! No please sir if you get in trouble god knows what they’ll do to me, please please I can’t go back there, I’m not worth any fuss, it’s already happened, its fine.”

Harry sighed, “No. No its not fine, but I’m very proud of you for telling me anyway.”

Toms mouth made a little stunned ‘Oh’ in response as Harry reached for the salve.

“If you wanna pop up for me on the bed and we’ll try ease some of that pain hm?”

He pressed his nose into Tom’s hair and ensured his thumb didn’t stray from the small circle he’d started to rub onto the scarred hand.  
“Yes master.” Tom forced his body to move, his limbs feeling jerky and uncooperative like a puppeteer on strings made of rusted wire.

He pulled off the fresh clothes and trembled as he pulled off the underwear, his last bit of protection.

Harry’s breathing was heavy behind him and it made him flinch recalling the many times he’d been in a similar position. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed determinedly because at least this time there was a bed. He hyper focused on said bed as the calm voice behind explained exactly where and when he’d be touching, much to Tom’s utter disgust and yet total gratitude. Even pre-Horcruxes he’d never felt so much emotional turmoil and it plummeted his energy like a dementor if a dementor was a virus.

His attention was solely captured on the intricacies of the bedspread below him as he firmly blocked out any sense except his sight which he used to keep him grounded. He felt so ashamed, logically knowing that this time wasn’t hurting and there was no reason for this reaction but he couldn’t face touch all over his body right now, despite the good intentions and the ever honourable way his master was doing so, even when treating his most intimate parts.

He desperately wished he’d said there was something wrong with his hair because he wanted nothing more now that to have tanned hands rubbing his scalp like earlier, yearning for it like a dying man did morphine. He told himself not to be so damn greedy and selfish. He killed this man’s parents-and friends and god so many other people _monstermonsteryoumonster_ -it was horrific of him to wish protection and, well, comfort from his master but he did. He wished it desperately and almost let a sob escape his worn throat and his arms and legs shook from holding him up for so long. Not that he hadn’t had a lot of practice with it. His bitter reminder to himself must have been broadcasted over his bloody forehead because there was a hand on the back of his neck all of a sudden and the white noise that were soft words had become silence. A waiting silence. 

He’d been asked something. His master had asked him something and he didn’t know what the question was, much less the answer. Tom couldn’t do it anymore, he'd endured all the pain vengeful citizens had to offer when some had come to take their pound of flesh and what was another round in comparison. He dropped like a stone his face smudging into pillow with extreme force as gravity did her job.

“Whoa whoa hey there now, easy Tom, I know this is so hard and you’re so brave right now but I need to you stay up just a little longer. Won’t you turn around so I can finally heal your poor hand?”

Harry waited anxiously for an answer, removing himself from Tom’s vicinity and cursing at his colossal mistake. He knelt by the edge of the bed and watched as the salve did its job and the scars and open wounds began to heal. How Tom had managed to walk at all with the extensive scarring on his feet, neverminding the open welts on the soles he didn’t know. His back wasn’t much better, nor were his knees and Harry was itching to heal the burn before it got infected. The motley of bruises on his arms would at least heal on their own even if they did make him feel sick with the sheer number of people that must have dragged out of Tom, both to hurt him so bad and cause this vacant look in his eyes as he lay completely dissociated from the world.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

As Tom lay trembling, Harry so badly wanted to touch him, a reassuring hug or something because Merlin knows Harry couldn’t give a speech if his life depended on it and words alone were never going to convince Tom that it would all be fine.   
“I can’t promise you everything will be OK because you’re no fool Tom. But I can promise to do everything in my considerable power to keep you safe.” The smile on his face was soft and small and as he continued to talk he watched the glassy sheen drop from Tom’s eyes and almost wished it would return as sheer terror took over.  
“Hi there. Take your time, there’s no rush, no hurry.” He soothed, even though awareness had returned to Tom, slugging with it tons of tremendous fear. 

Shaking cracked lips opened and bled simultaneously, to give way to a litany of apologies but if Harry heard the word sorry again tonight he was going to cry himself.   
“It’s fine, everything’s fine. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you at all. I want, I want you to know Tom, that I’m not going to hurt you. Not now and not ever. On that you have my word.”  
“Yes master. And I’m sor-”  
“No. No more. Not tonight or else I will lose it. No more apologies alright, deal?”

Tom shook his proffered hand with his own trembling one. Harry seized this opportunity to hold up the salve in question and then spread it generously, despite the obvious pain it caused. Tom’s fingers spasamed as he touched the shiny part of the large blister and he was so grateful the earlier potion had begun to mend bone breaks as he dreaded trying to rebreak or vanish any this night. 

“There we go, how’s that now?”  
Tom’s eyes welled up with tears and Harry stomach dropped. Shit not again, how was it possible to fuck up so much in one day.   
“R-real good master.” Tom’s throat sounded like it had been through the runner too and Harry made a mental note that ice cream would be required in the near future.  
“Good. Good, that’s good.” Tension left his body and he slumped towards the bed. Thinking over the night, he reached a hand up and allowing the flinch to pass and adjusting to Tom’s cringe, asked “Would it be alright if I dried your hair before bed? No sense healing everything for you to get a cold from a wet head now is there.”  
Hope jumped into Tom’s heart and he tried not to appear too eager, reminding himself that his master could still yank the hair from his skull if he so chose. 

He shuffled up and heard Harry stand. He slid to the floor, delighted in how little it hurt, almost not at all, and purred in delight as they assumed their earlier positions.   
Harry sat on the bed once more and leaned over, tapping Tom on the hip. Once Tom stiffened and shifted as requested Harry slid a cushion under him. The salve and potions may work miracles but Tom was going to (or should if he didn’t have the pain tolerance of a frickin honey badger) have trouble sitting for a few days as the tears healed and the stretching was fixed, not to mention the other internal damage

He hummed softly, a Metallica something or other, as he used a soft baby brush to untangle the wet mop that had made it’s home on Tom’s head and buried his fingers in Tom’s scalp.

God in Heaven, Tom wanted to cry. He would curl up at Potters feet, do whatever, be whoever, if he would do this again. Logical Brain told him that it was just the trauma that made him so susceptible to this gentle treatment but he didn’t even care. He could feel a something thrumming through the bond, an insistent contentment that meant he had done his job and his master was pleased. 

So he felt no guilt (and surprisingly no fear, even with his naked state) in lifting his head and scooting even closer, the two bodies pressing together. The heat then created a sensation that had he been more aware of, would have made him panic like nobody’s business. He couldn’t tell how much later it was when a softly chuckling Harry lifted him into the bed and tucked the covers under his chin as he groaned, the covers cold against his naked skin. It would later dawn upon him that he could only feel all this without scarring in the way due to his masters generous actions. 

“Goodnight Tom. I really do hope you sleep well, don’t forget the bathroom is right there ok, and my room is two down if you need anything at all.” Tom nearly imagined phantom lips brushing his forehead but that would have been just as ridiculous as the flurry of protection spells that bombarded the whole room. 

Tom drifted off to sleep far quicker than he had in nearly a decade, body supple and pliant as he thought of how glad he was that he wasn’t dead in a cold hallway somewhere right now and decided to thank his ex-nemesis for that tomorrow and find out why. Why he had bothered to take Tom and not just let the justice system have their way and be done with him. Whether or not he knew the depth of Dumbledore’s manipulations, there was no denying Tom was in some way responsible. He had to know why. First thing. After sleep. It all would be better after sleep.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The thoughts of how he was to express gratitude plagued Tom from the second he woke up, the bond niggling and prodding him. His own new found conscience was working overtime too today, hissing that Potter should have let him die, given his exemplary behaviour yesterday. He needed to apologise for that again for sure or else Tom had no doubt he’d be made to do so thrice over. He’d always been intelligent of course but no such gift would serve him well in this situation. No it was better he kept his mouth firmly shut. He would have to rely on his other and more recently acquired… skills to do here. He grimaced at the thought and worried his lip as he hoped Potter would let him say thank you in the only way he knew how. It was certainly a necessity before Tom even began to ask questions.  
The sun had only begun to rise, the red splurge a promise of new hope in the sky and he took this as cue as he went to shower. Nothing stung this time and he was out of the shower far quicker than yesterday, only to find new clothes on his bed. He stopped and swallowed, fingers reaching out to touch them delicately. They weren’t the Azkaban rags and as such were far far too nice to be wasted on him. He whispered a hoarse thank you to the elf no doubt responsible and grimaced as he realised he owed the elf an apology too, Regulus’ elf that he was, he thought... Maybe.

Tom wasn’t quite sure how long he stood there, head bowed and hands clasped neatly in front of him with wet hair dribbling down his neck and chin but he knew his neck was starting to hurt for sure.  
Footsteps echoed outside his door and just as he thought his heart was going to explode into a veiny bloody mess inside his chest, the door opened. 

Harry opened the door, hair ruffled yet eyes wide open and alert and Tom felt self-loathing spit up within him. He had done this. This boy, this man, barely old enough to know who he was had become a soldier because of Tom. Dumbledore may have steered those reins but Tom had never done all he could either. Should have just crashed the whole bloody carriage and saved the world a whole lot of suffering. 

“Hey there brainiac what’s got you thinking such dark thoughts so early hm?”  
Better now then never. Tom dropped to his knees, hands going to his masters robes as he retreated within to that place inside himself and hoped futilely that once today would be enough. But his master was young so he doubted it. 

A white haze took over him as confusion took over his master as he stated down at Tom in compete bewilderment, his heart clearly in his mouth and yet even now not cruel enough to throw Tom away screaming. It didn’t take him long, a hand so far as his trousers, to figure out the boys intentions and it made him want to vomit when he looked at Tom’s face. He was out of it, completely mentally absent and far away from whatever the hell he was trying to achieve with a damn blowjob. 

“No.” Harry said firmly, grasping Tom’s wrist in one hand as he stepped back and fixed his robes for good measure.  
“I don’t want sex from you Tom, good Merlin!” frustration bloomed in him and he ran a hand through his hair. He knelt down to face Tom who now looked completely ashen, like his world views had been rolled out like glass and crushed with a house. 

The ‘no’ made Tom’s chest constrict and his stomach drop both from the bond and his own fucking stupidity. Idiot. Even when he wasn’t freaky looking Potter wouldn’t want Tom to touch him, not with the bloodied hands of a murderer. A lump rose in his throat as all his plans and what would be feeble attempts at control were ripped away from him with this new no sex thing. Which…. What the fuck. What kind of man had a willing body at his feet and would refuse! 

“A man whose a lil dubious about that willing part.” Tom cringed away, realising Potter was far closer then he’d thought. And damn his eyes were very green. And very close Holy hell. But back to the issue at hand. 

“I am, I swear, please master.” As sad as it sounded, without sex there wasn’t a whole lot of purpose to him, he wasn’t good for anything else without his magic and his intellect was completely if not utterly shattered. And if he couldn’t be good for anything then well no guesses where he would end up.  
“No. I don’t think so. I know that it may have helped you survive Azkaban but you’re not there now and are never, ever going back. It’ll take some adjusting but let’s just make that really clear ok, no sex. None Nada zilch not happening right. Consent is sexy and all that jazz.” Harry muttered, standing and ushering Tom to do the same. 

He still looked shell-shocked, swaying on his feet whilst his mouth opened like a drowning fish’s. He didn’t understand and likely wouldn’t, not for a long while. But that was OK, Harry had barely slept a wink and had spent the sleepless night making lists of rules and boundaries and the like for them both in the hope that it would bring some semblance of order to the complete fuckity that was their lives now. 

“I don’t understand.” Tom whispered brokenly, staring at his feet, the skin all shiny and new.  
“I can be good, I promise, I can be anyone I-I-”  
“Really really should just figure out who you are right now, ok? And I don’t want you to be anybody else. Not ever.” Harry sent him a kind smile whilst his own thoughts were busy hitting the sides of his brain like a whacked pinball machine. 

“Come on down, we’ll get some breakfast and have that chat.” That order was easy to follow and Tom toddled after Harry, obedient as he could possibly be and intended to stay. He hasn’t even lasted a day and knew Harry would likely crack down on all the rules now but at least there would be rules even if there were impossible ones. Flying blind like he had yesterday made him rather sick. And angry because he had assumed Potter wouldn’t be the better man and revel in the chance of revenge. Tom was clearly a braindeaded fool however and hadn’t considered that hey, he’s the reason you’re alive twice over at this point so really just learn to be fucking grateful and shut up. 

And if he was honest with himself, he would rather Potters hands on him over McMillians any day. Tom followed Harry into the open kitchen, kneeling at his feet. He had gotten dinner yesterday and whilst none of the death eaters had ever kept slaves, their ancestors had and the tomes he had read made it clear that rich foods were certainly not to be wasted on slaves. He had eaten a generous meal yesterday and had then shouted horrid things at his master. Tom knew he should have rightfully been punished for that, whipped at the very least but his master had said he was letting it go. First day jitters for them both. Right. 

He heard his master sigh above him and felt the bond forcibly constrict his chest and cursed his past self for, amongst his many many other sins, never researching the actual bonds that were a result of these rituals. They were often one sided, he knew and as he was learning, he could monitor his masters emotions-fat lot of good it did, Tom didn’t know what the different Emotions were-but only briefly to please him and the bond would slowly but surely take matters into its own hands if he wasn’t punished when due. It made any kind of secrecy physically impossible. 

“Tom. Sit up at the table, same seat as yesterday. Though no broken plates this time hmm?” This was paired with what was undoubtedly a wink but Tom could only stare in utter confusion. Sure the man had had kind words yesterday but didn’t Potter have any idea how he was supposed to treat a slave? He’d read the manual. Nonetheless he felt the need to inform his master,  
“I had dinner yesterday, master.” He kept his tone dutiful but unfailingly polite. Even though questioning his master ought to get him a slap at least, Harry only raised an eyebrow and pointed to the chair. 

“Yes I’m well aware thank you. Now do as I tell you and sit and eat.”  
“Yes master.” An apology was on the tip of his tongue but he remembered how the young lord had hated his incessant, though accidental apologies yesterday and he did not want to anger the man, not ever. He settled for placing his head on the ground and kissing the end of his robes before sitting down where directed. 

He stared into the oatmeal with a vacant gaze, hysterical laughter blooming in his chest as the sight of it. There was a little fruit selection on the top, sitting neatly in a pile and he had never been so angry in his life. Was this a joke? A test? Did his master know when the last time Tom had even seen fruit was, fruit, a blessed thing he had thought to never see again. 

He fought hard to control tears-again, he seriously needed to get a grip before the man got angry-and picked up the spoon. Tom couldn’t hide a disbelieving sigh as nothing hurt or even twinged at the motion, not even when he brought it to his mouth and back down in a series of copying repetitive movements like a broken robots. 

Harry sipped his coffee, the temperature burning his tongue as he swallowed and stared at Tom. He looked transfixed by the simplest things and it was somewhat adorable, if not so messed up but if he ever had his robes kissed again he would burn them. He imagined this quite vividly as he munched on French toast, keeping an eye on Tom when it was clear he was struggling, even with the pain hopefully removed from his stomach. 

“It’s alright.” He felt the need to say softly. “You can stop if you’re full and try again later. It’s still yours I promise. You need only ask.” There was a moment of communicative silence as they both knew Tom would never do such a thing. 

Harry cleared his throat and mentally grasped for the list of rules he’d scrambled to come up with to ensure a sense of order within the house and to settle this weird bloody bond between them. He honestly couldn’t believe that people used to get a kick out of feeling unplaced terror in the back of their heads everyday and knowing they caused it. It was sickening and Harry was going to minimise that terror as much as he could. 

“Right so, what I said yesterday, don’t lie to me, not ever. I cannot stand it, I’ve had rather enough of that in this life time and I don’t need it from you.  
No more breaking things, unless, you know, it’s that really old vase in the corner, if you can manage that I’ll be impressed.  
Communication. You gotta talk to me ok, I don’t know what I’m doing I’m literally flying blind because at least subs have bloody safe words for the love of Jesus.” 

The last bit wasn’t meant for Tom’s ears but he heard it anyway and it perked up an interesting nugget in the brain, even as the implication made him pale. Potter dommed. He was experienced, with both control and discipline. Tom cursed this as it meant then that his master would know exactly when he was done for and could avoid taking it too far and killing him. For better or worse. Tom wasn’t sure if this was a benefit or a reason to scream and curl up under the table. He decided to ignore this tidbit until further notice and concentrated on the rest of these rules that were, so far, not that bad. 

“You gotta be polite and respectful to anyone else aswell alright, that includes Kreacher and the rare guest that might be come here. If you so much as snipe at anyone, so help me you’ll regret it, much less if you actively try to hurt someone.”  
He was almost pleased to see Tom blanch at the thought and nod his head like a jack-in-a-box.  
The rest of the rules were merely extensions of those, simply ironing out any possible loopholes. Not that Harry thought Tom would actively search for any, the state he was in now, mentally speaking. Tom continued to nod as Harry listed the no destruction of anything in the house, no touching cursed items and things of the like and then the crux of the matter, his magic. 

“No dark magic, not without permission, with it, sure go nuts just no murdering folk yeah? That’ll make us both look bad but magic is magic. If you find it easier to heat water with flagrate then incendio fine. We’ll discuss it more later but it’s your magic Tom and I won’t keep you from it. That I can promise ok? You can’t legally own a wand so we’ll just work on without one when you strengthen up a bit.” 

Harry finished firmly, and decisively and so was shocked to see Tom completely frozen, not even an eyelash moving. What on earth had-oh. The magic. Tom had long come to accept in Azkaban, as the Unspeakables were kind enough to implant that chip inside him somewhere to dampen his magic, that he would never feel it again. It was still there in his veins, but acted more like a dash of adrenaline. He could feeling it thrumming under his skin but could never use it. He had sobbed and screamed for weeks on end as he sat in his cell. He had not known much else, confused and dazed as he was but he had felt his magic ripped from him, like a limb torn off that was just lying useless on your lap. It was there you could feel it but it would never again do what you wished it to. 

The thoughts of his magic had never even entered Tom’s head. He had assumed it a lost cause, that he was forever doomed to be a squib. It was the least of his penance. But now, now his master was offering him an opportunity for a little more and this time Tom couldn’t retrain the tears if he’d had enough wherewithal to try. 

“Thank you master. Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou.” Tom was sobbing and buried his head in his hands before he managed to look up.  
“I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do anything. Anything you want master please.”  
He looked up at a very alarmed Harry Potter who was as pale as a sick Irish man.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Harry stood and marched over to Tom, his strides purposeful. He reached the chair where Tom curled up in foetal position and was too busy trembling to look at him, muttering pleas into his knees.   
“Hush now.” Harry murmured, trying to think how he was going to be able to do this long term. It had been 24 hours maybe less and they were both already exhausted emotional messes.   
“Quiet down there for a minute hm? I know very well you’re going to behave and I do appreciate the lack of murder attempts so I think we’ll make this work. I promised I’d take care of you and you just promised you’d follow my rules so I think we’ll stumble along just fine.” Harry’s speech was direct and calming, almost forcibly pushing air down into Tom’s lungs as he looked up through his long fringe shyly. 

“Yes master.”  
“Good. Come on then. Rest up for today but I’ve got a job for you tomorrow that I rather think you’ll like.” This didn’t alarm Tom like it should have and he found himself smiling back, even though blood dribbled down his chin from his cracked lips. 

His master tutted, evidently disproving, and wiped his whole face with a damp handkerchief. He was taking clear care to not smother him with it and never let it dangle outside of the small bundle necessary for the cleansing.   
Tom did indeed feel a lot fresher after having such a bizarre morning so far and waited warily for whatever would come next. Resting today was unlikely though Potter had muttered about consent and such earlier and had established a no sex rule, there was still a large part of Toms mind that didn’t quite actually believe that at all.

“Just to be clear.” Master said suddenly, as though he knew exactly where Tom’s thoughts were headed.  
“I’ve set rules for myself too. I’m not going to hurt you, not even in punishment. It doesn’t install anything but fear of said punishment and not any kinda of sense of wrongdoing. So” He shrugged, “I’m not gonna beat you or curse you, none of that shit ok. I know you don’t believe me and that’s fine. It’ll take time but I’ll prove to you otherwise.”

He paused only a minute to let Tom’s slow brain absorb this information, which it did, like a sponge absorbing molasses.   
“Let’s get going then, I’ve got bloody mountains of paperwork to do and we’ll set you up in the office somewhere to just lay down.” Tom assumed, correctly thank god, that he was supposed to follow and was thankful to be able to keep speed with Harry as he strode with long steps to the home office.

The room was big and square, the corners immediately looking valuable to Tom. The blue-grey colour on the walls was soothing as was the fire already burning merrily away in the hearth despite the early morning. OK, the UK they were in for sure. 

Harry sat in the leather wing backed chair facing the door and pointed down to a spot on the soft carpet. “Sit.”  
Being treated like a dog hardly bothered him, he’d had much worse in his life so Tom sank down and let the soft carpet fibres run against his cheek as he watched his master.   
The man started paperwork and seemed to altogether forget he was there as the office fell into silence, aside from the fire’s crackling and frustrated mutterings from behind the desk as Harry dubbed his colleagues ridiculous, frivolous, stubborn greedy idiots more than once whilst he marked bills with the viciousness of a hungover examiner. 

The chimes of the clock alerted him it was nearly 3 hours had gone by before his eyes started to water from lack of blinking  
He hadn’t taken his eyes off Harry since they settled, both watching him and trying to wrangle his mind into shape around its new world. He blinked and allowed water to cleanse the sting as his thoughts began to drift.   
“Tom.” A voice called, not minutes later and broke him from his reverie to see Potter looking right at him, his expression inscrutable. 

“Come here for just a sec.”  
Tom did as bid scrambling over on his knees and sitting back on his haunches expectantly.   
“You thirsty?” the question was casual but it made Tom feel winded as he sucked in a breath so sharp his lungs stung. Was this a test? Because the last time he’d said yes to this question… it hadn’t ended well.   
He shook his head, only to clear the memories. His master took his answer the wrong way however and frowned almost concernedly. 

“Are you sure? Maybe just a little water?” his master pressed and Tom shook his head as tears streamed down his cheeks. Please no water, please no he’d be good he wouldn’t ask again please nonononono. 

“That’s ok, that’s ok no water alright, you don’t have to have any it was just a question. There’s nothing wrong you’re doing fine Tom.”  
He managed to look up and realised he could breathe and his lungs weren’t horribly waterlogged and his nose wasn’t burning and he could breathe. He could breathe and did, heaving in massive intakes of air to avoid vomiting like he usually did after the water because there was reason and no water in his body so nothing to vomit up. Perfectly logical. 

What wasn’t however was the hand in his hair, not to tug him up from the basin but only to stroke. His master was stroking calm patterns into his scalp, scratching that lovely way that stopped all the carnage in his head.   
“I’m sorry i-I.”  
“It’s alright. You’re doing so good. Am I right in saying you like this hm?”

Whilst Tom hesitated to answer, Harry already knew what the answer was. He could imagine, were Tom not so traumatised that his hair would be a rather enormous turn on for him but for now it would simply act as a grounding tool, a relief of some kind and Harry was more than satisfied with that. It was a surefire way to counteract some of the harsher moments where Tom would become completely lost in his head, an easy way to guide him back out. 

Harry was feeling incredibly solid right now and safe, and he wanted Tom to feel the same. They’d only been in this situation a day and Harry knew it was far too soon to coddle him. God knows what Tom would only take from that given his first act this morning. He looked down at the dark hair, bent so far and drying into a mop of unruly curls that caved under his now still hand, the ends of the dark strands congealing around the base of his neck. 

It did make him smile and only served to remind him that Tom needed nutrition to regain his health and Harry pondered on just how they were going to deal with the water issue. Harry was far from stupid and realised from today and his own disastrous attempt to use a cloth on Tom that the guards clearly enjoyed waterboarding so baths would probably be an issue too, never mind actually drinking water. He thought on it more and Tom continued to calm at his feet, breathing a slightly more regular rhythm now. 

Harry knew he must be parched and hummed in consideration. Tom’s head snapped up at the sound as he leaned back to scrutinise Harry warily.  
“Shushshush, everything’s fine. I’ll be back in just a second, though the bathroom is next door if you need it hm?”  
When he received an understanding nod, Harry strode out, his mind already cataloguing the kitchen stock, though Kreacher did hate it when he interfered in the elf’s domain. 

He hummed to himself as he worked and Harry felt able to let a smile grace his face as he bounced back to the office. A the clear plastic cup in his hand swashed the drink around the sides though the top and straw prevented any spillages. Tom needed each drop he could get. 

Harry entered the room to see Tom inched closer to the fire, almost inconspicuously so. He said nothing but held out the smoothie and reached a hand out for the blanket on his chair.   
Harry held them out and made a gentle shoving gesture when Tom didn’t move, only lay trembling on the carpet. Harry knelt, watching the boy and was disappointed to see him flinch all the way back, recoiling as if Harry was a venomous coyote.   
“Here.” He said quietly, taking a testing sip from the smoothie before handing over the objects and wondering just what was going on in Tom’s head that he wouldn’t accept a damn drink. 

Tom stared at the pale pink drink it’s luminous colour startlingly attractive and making his stomach grumble, much to his consternation. He did accept the cup, secretly grateful for the existence of the protruding straw. Tom hesitantly drew the concoction closer to his mouth realising the futility in his reluctance. Reluctance because, sure, Harry had taken a tester sip but there were numerous ways around that, poison only at a certain point in the straw, an antidote before he entered the room, a blood based poison… the possibilities were endless. So Tom placed the tip of a plastic straw between his teeth and inhaled a large gulp. Good Gods it was amazing. It had to be the most spectacular juice he’d ever tasted, fruit covering every inch and as his tongue began to remember how to work he also tasted honey and crushed seeds, sunflower maybe? It was cool going down his throat and was more of a balm then any potion. The vanilla strawberry aftertaste was something he would cherish for as long as he had left to live and, though he was unconscious of the action, Tom’s tongue darted out to lick every last drip that escaped his maw, leaving not a dribble. 

Harry was so pleased to see it, Tom practically swaying where he knelt, eyes closed in bliss as his hold tightened on the plastic cup.   
“There’s ice cream in there too. Should help your throat.”   
Tom actually jumped when he spoke, eyes darting around like a guilty puppy.   
“Sorry to interrupt you,” Harry couldn’t help but tease, “But I thought you might want to know, just ice-cream no water or ice promise.” 

Harry’s smile was gentle, Tom almost caught himself into thinking it genuine. As his master shooed him over the fire, not to hurt him, as he was reminded sternly, but only to allow him to rest safely. Tom felt so sated in that moment it wasn’t until the man laid a soft blanket on his shoulders that he remembered his manners.  
“Thank you, master.” He was proud it came out in one fluid string, as quiet as it was.   
The man beamed at him, giving off serious Dumbledore vibes that made Tom flinch internally.   
“You’re very welcome, pet. Are you warm enough?”  
Pet.. It was better then slave.   
“Yes master. You’re very kind thank you.”  
“Sure thing. You let me know if you need something yeah. And drink that ‘fore it melts.” 

Harry moved back behind his desk and tried to refocus his mind on the different bills pre-sent to him in hopeless attempts to garner his approval. Needless to say none of it ever worked, biased pieces of kindling that they were. Not that any such paper held his attention now, eyes absorbed with the image of Tom supping away at the smoothie with an almost palatable delight. 

He didn’t seem in the least bothered by the fire but there was still a long ways to go until dinner so Harry reached a hand down into his desk drawers to root around for something he was sure he must have.   
As his fingers closed around the cube he grinned in victory, but only for seconds, knowing eagle sharp red eyes were still very much watching him. 

“Here.” He rolled the Rubik’s cube over to Tom, who shrank away from the coloured cube like he did everything else.   
“See if you can’t get that. You want to get all the same colour squares on the same side.” He elaborated, then snorted.   
“Good luck ‘cause I’ve seriously botched it up along the way. Do the best you can.” He winked and put his head down in order to pretend not see a pale hand stretch up in insatiable curiosity. 

Harry’s lips twitched but soon lost their smile as he scowled over Amos Diggory’s latest petition to ban all foreign wizards from visiting their country without proof of their magic affinity and political alliance.   
It was only when a scowling Kreacher popped in to remind Harry of dinner did he pause in his torrid of Snape-like remakes in red ink. 

He glanced up at Tom, to see him curled up in a tiny ball before the dying fire, slight shivers trembling through him every few seconds.   
“C’mon, pet, dinner time.” Harry sighed and stood, cracking all his joints as Tom leapt to attention, hair frazzled and eyes wide. Harry did his best to pretend that this was all entirely normal and strode on through the old halls of the Black family home with Tom silently on his heels. He glanced back as the doorway nearly cleared from sight and smiled. 

The Rubik’s cube sat there, polished as a button and perfectly completed, its complimenting colours glowing in the light of the feeble fire.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

_Previously:_ The _Rubik’s cube sat there, polished as a button and perfectly completed, its complimenting colours glowing in the light of the feeble fire._

Pride filled him and he took note of the distractions success. They entered the kitchen, tantalising smells long since drawing them closer and Harry wanted nothing more to dive into the waiting dish in front of him. He was well aware of Tom lingering behind him in the doorway a cluster of nervous energy. He opened his mouth to direct him and paused, curious what Tom would do. He sensed Tom’s eyes take note of the same place settings as this morning, a bowl and cutlery laid out for him and knew he was analysing the probability of this being a trick, a test of some kind. 

Harry felt almost like a proud parent as Tom shuffled towards the chair and placed a hand on it hesitantly, hiding the fact that the varnished wood was taking most of his weight, his body already exhausted.  
“Master?” He asked hesitantly.  
Harry didn’t play the game of making him ask and instead nodded and when Tom was seated gingerly at the edge of the chair, he offered a “Well done Tom. Enjoy your dinner, I know you must be tired.”

Tom cringed at the words, tired from doing absolutely nothing all day. It certainly boded well for his job tomorrow, whatever that may be. It was like a hangman’s axe dangling from a piece of thread. Ready to drop and hurt him at any second. Despite his lack of hunger, having been more well fed in the last few days that he had been in years, the bowl in front of him smelt amazing. A little scoop of potatoes, creamed and soft, rested innocently in front of him, a little trail of butter making itself known on the edges. He wetted his lips unconsciously and glanced up again to see Potter paying him absolutely no mind and flicking through a magazine as he ate, none the wiser of Toms dilemma. The lack of scrutiny encouraged him and he picked the spoon and dug in, in one fell swoop and gasped as the soft purée melted on his tongue. He took it spoon tip by tip and was delighted to finish before his master, pleased that he had done as ordered and was not making the man wait for him. As the dinner silence stretched on, Tom reeled back through the day. He had done nothing wrong best he could judge. He’d lain where told to, drank the most delicious smoothie and completed the little puzzle box his master had presented him with. And he hadn’t broken any of the earlier discussed rules, although doubt lingered in his mind. It was around this time normally that most of the guards would come to have their turn and the clock twitching closer to six pm made him twitchy until his fingers were flicking unbidden on his lap, pinching then scraping the soft fabric of the loose trousers he’d been given. 

Tom was only aware of eyes on him when he’d managed to regain his breath and snapped his head up to see Harry looking at him curiously. The man tilted his head and nibbled on his lip, before speaking.  
“I’m going inside to finally escape the dammed paperwork, while you, however are in charge of tea, is that clear? You can bring a tray for two and prepare it in there.” 

Tom nodded vigorously, pleased to have a task even though he desperately tried to account for everything he’d need.  
“Y-yes master. I can do that.” He could. He would. What was the use of a slave that couldn’t even prepare a simple tea tray.  
“Good boy. I know you can.” The man’s small smile and quiet affirmation, filled Tom with a faux confidence even though he flinched when his master stood and left, flicking his fingers to make the dishes wash themselves. 

Tom waited until the footsteps were gone and hopped up to complete his task, setting water onto boil and looking frantically for everything he would need. As he set down two cups he wondered curiously if this was a time for a guest his master had mentioned he was to be polite too. He supposed he would probably be humiliated being seen in such a low position by anyone else but as his memories of, well, anyone were jumbled at best, he doubted the embarrassment would supersede the fear of making any sort of mistake ensuring punishment. 

As he finally found a tray and gathered small bowls of sugar, honey, lemon and a jug of milk with the procession of a brain scrambled enough to revel in a task orientated goal, he felt a semblance of pride as everything lay as precise and exact as a military bunk. Each item from jug to cup to biscuit plate lay 2 inches apart, leaving a exact ring of space for the kettle. Said kettle went off with a shrieking whistle and Tom flinched before yanking it off the stove. He stood there frozen, shoulders hunched and body ready, waiting for a punishment for the noise. When nothing came for a whole minute of a clocks chiming, his shoulder blades removed themselves from his ears and he righted his tray once more before lifting it with an ease not borne from strength but a knowledge of fulcrum and focal points of a sceptics eye. 

He used his shoulder to push open the living room door and took a deep breath once more before entering. His master was still unaccompanied but it was possible his companion was late. Nonetheless Tom set down the tray on the little table now set in front of Harry and knelt. He was still in position to be able to reach each item if his masters desire was for him to prepare the tea. 

As the man scrutinised him, Tom found humiliation squirm in his stomach at the subservience of his position and how little that actual fact bothered him when it should have. Shouldn’t it have ? Surely? He was able to brush it away and, eager to break the silence asked hoarsely. “Do you-shall I prepare tea for you sir?”  
There was a considering hum above his head and Tom clenched his hands in the fabric of the trousers. The cotton was now all ruffled and sweaty from his constant wringing and he hoped feverently that that was not a punishable offense. Did it count as a lack of respect? Tom didn’t know and it made him gnaw anxiously on his lip as he waited with bated breath for the answer. 

“Go ahead, pet, dash of sugar and lemon for me.” A dash was hardly a quantitative amount and Tom wrinkled his nose in irritation. Was he deliberately being tripped up now? Was his existence not reason enough to just up and discipline him if that’s what the man was after? He pushed himself forward from thoughts, maybe memories of whips and fire and so much screaming he thought his ears would surely bleed and set to his task. He hissed at his own shaking hand as a half tea spoon of each item was added and mixed, the liquid absorbing them with the surety of a void that invoked envy so potent in Tom he had to swallow like a snake swallowing back venom.

Harry sipped and smiled after he swallowed. Tom was nibbling his lip so hard the frail membrane would surely break and bleed all over his chin again in seconds. He reached out and let his hand deliberately longer in Toms view, acknowledging his fearful retreat and pushing his lip free from the confines of his teeth.  
“Its perfect. Well done, pet.” 

Tom’s smile was much shakier than his own and his bottoms were once again held captive by his white knuckled fists. When more time passed and Tom didn’t move towards the other cup, Harry tilted his head in confusion and felt the bursting need to ask “Will you not prepare your own?”

Tom’s head snapped up. Prepare his what? His body. Oh oh merlin of course fucking loopholes just because Harry had said he had no intentions of sex with Tom, it didn’t mean his guest didn’t. But still the gesture was too vague and strangely worded and Tom felt his brow furrow in utter confusion.  
“Prepare how master?” He croaked so hoarsely he was sure his very throat had cracked. Having men shove themselves in it did that to a guy. 

To his horror the man shrugged and said “Well I don’t know how you like your tea, whatever way tastes good to you.” Like it was no big deal like he sent an asteroid hurtling past his slaves head and snatched him out of the way within a hairs breadth of utter destruction.  
“The tea?”  
Now the man as looking at him strangely, almost concernedly. “Yes the tea, Tom what did you think I meant, it is yours after all.”  
“Mine?” Tom voice came out like a squeak and he felt wind rush through his ears. 

Now Harry was outright frowning, his novel long forgotten on his lap.  
“Yes. It’s yours.” He kept his voice soft, free of the anger welling up inside him and trying to probe gently.  
“Tom will you answer me this, what exactly did you think was happening here?”  
Tom opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a solid minute before lowering his head even more and stuttering out  
“I didn’t think, Master I’m sorry.” No sooner had the lie passed his lips did he regret it.  
Now Harry couldn’t contain his irritated sigh. He regretted it instantly as Tom tensed up in pain and moaned slightly as tremors shook his body, not of his own accord. 

Harry instantly reached out for a sense of calmness and could only feel horror when his anger faded yet Tom was still left jerking on the floor.  
“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’m not mad it’s alright.” That seemed to have worked somehow as Tom stayed still where he was on the floor and Harry wondered if he was even breathing. For one horrible moment it didn’t seem like he was, and as Harry launched to his knees beside Tom’s prone body, a wet gasp escaped the still form. 

Blood spattered from Tom’s mouth as a result, landing and staining the carpet, even as Tom rubbed at it with a sleeve as he attempted to regain equilibrium. Harry rushed to help.  
“Here, let me-”  
He had just placed arms around Tom’s slanted, bony body when he let out an actual yelp, like a puppy and crumbled again, curling all the way into a ball but unresisting to Harry’s touch.  
“Imsorrysorrysorry. So sorry masterplease. Sorrysorry, please.”  
There was an alarming amount of blood spewing onto the new carpet and Toms voice sounded thick, like his mouth was full and Harry soon saw it was. There was clots in his mouth he couldn’t possibly swallow, his teeth were tinged red and there was panic setting in to his eyes as he couldn’t help it and let survival instinct kick in. 

Coughing and hacking cleared clumps of blood from god knows where in his mouth and Tom was still crying, the tears cleaning his chin as they dribbled untouched all the way down.  
“Evanseco.” Harry murmured, using his all his focus to solely banish the blood and hopefully not Tom’s teeth or tongue. It seemed to have worked as Tom let out a breath and crunched back into himself, becoming a trembling hedgehog once more. He was groaning softly in pain and that couldn’t mean anything good. 

Harry was sure he had never felt so much panic in his life though he probably had, and reached to do something, to help someway, Tom cringing away from him and panting softly through the blood.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

Harry scooted closer to Tom’s side and spoke softly to him,  
“Tom, I’m just, can I-oh god I’m so sorry, I need to check where that blood was coming from, just if you could…”  
He put his hand on Tom’s shoulders to turn him over and expected the flinch but not the near sob as Tom’s eyes glazed over again like they had the previous night, his awareness completely gone and his mind pulling out a last-ditch effort to form some semblance of protection. 

Taking advantage of Toms pliant state, Harry let his hands hover uncertainly over his body, having no idea how the supposed bond punishments worked. Had Tom only been caused to choke or was there a speed up reaction from something else seriously wrong, like mutated internal bleeding or something of that nature that Harry was seriously not equipped to deal with. 

Heat pooled from his hands, covering Tom’s body, and reflecting as a yellowish glow as the stains on his mouth disappeared and even the little cracks on his lips healed. Sighing in utter relief, Harry sank back against the leg of his own chair.  
There had to be a way to dial that aspect of the bond down. If this was what happened if Harry was mildly irritated and not even at Tom really, then what would happen for anything more serious, like the incident the last night. There had been no forced consequences for Tom’s outburst at him but dallying with tea was unacceptable? It was beyond confusing and Harry worried his own control of his emotions would now need to be ironclad in order to escape such an incident. He had been nothing but faintly accepting and understanding of Toms outburst so perhaps the bond hadn’t counted it. Harry didn’t know and was determined to find out. 

Directing his attention back to Tom, he was pleased to see him taking in lungfuls of air, his eyes now shuttered closed. He looked almost peaceful lying there sweetly, appearing nearly asleep. Harry hoped this was the case but was dashed when he moved his hand to Tom’s hair, purely to reassure himself that the boy was fine. 

Tom tensed up and his eyes snapped open to stare at Harry fearfully.  
“I’m so sorry, Tom. That shouldn’t have happened at all, you didn’t nothing wrong, it definitely wasn’t your fault and I’m gonna find a way to fix it ok?” Tom blinked in response, as though his brain wasn’t capable of understanding speech.  
“I’m so sorry.” Harry whispered again feeling utterly hopeless.  
“Are you, are you OK now? Is-does anything hurt?”  
This seemed to do the trick as Tom slowly shook his head, eyes fixated on Harry, drooping tiredly. 

He must be exhausted and Harry could only empathise.  
“That’s good. Ok. Ok good. Let’s get you up.” It took help and manoeuvring to get Tom up to his knees and when his body swayed even there, Harry hastily decided that was fine and scanned the room.  
He summoned the throw on the couch to hand and wrapped it around Tom’s shoulders, though he shied away at the initial touch. His hair blocked Harrys view of his face and simply made the Potter lord feel awful so he did what he did best in this kind of situation and followed his gut instinct. 

It was easier then it should have been to arrange them in an all too familiar way to Harry. Tom’s head lolled against Harry’s chest as the Dom bracketed Tom’s legs with his own and rubbed his arms up and down over the blanket to hopefully stave off any shock. He quietly asked Kreacher for a glass of water out of the corner of his mouth, when his senses finally regained and he remembered the little elf that had become his confident. 

He held the glass up to Tom’s mouth, shushing gently to try stave off the trembling the catatonic boy was suffering. Tom sipped at it, swallowing reflexively twice, clearly a necessary evil if the bloody backwash was any indication.  
He finished the whole glass this way and Harry was tempted to just throw it in the fire when he was done, the swirling red at the end of the glass too disturbing to look at. 

“I’m sorry.” Tom whispered into the silence, hunching his shoulders now he was aware Harry was behind him. Harry opened his mouth to reassure him but he took one look at the dark circles and just plain heavy look on Tom’s face and knew he wasn’t talking about the tea.  
“I know.” Harry answered, wrapping a hand around his chest.  
“I don’t-I mean I-why? I mean you caught on to how manipulative he really was but I don’t see why you care you could have just been living your best life. Wouldn’t that be easier if I was dead? Would for me anyway.” Tom laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and brittle enough to snap windows.  
“It’s funny. For so long I was terrified of dying and yet I’ve wished for it so much in the last few years, you’d think they’d cancel out.”  
“I’m not sure it works like that.” Was all Harry could muster to reply to Tom’s little speech. 

As Tom shifted slightly to roll over and curled up his knees to shove them against his chest.  
“How do I keep screwing it all up? I promised myself I’d be good that I’d make this work and make you not… annoyed at me but I don’t, how do I…?” Tom trailed off, finally looking up at Harry with jaded eyes.  
“I’ll stay out of your way, promise. You don’t gotta see me ever if you don’t wanna.”  
“Heyhey, no one said that. Calm your brain down a sec yeah? This isn’t ideal we both know that but what the fuck is for us hm?”  
This drew a reluctance smile from Tom as Harry steamrolled ahead.  
“Besides you’re not making me do anything, I’m staying with you and not just flinging you somewhere because I want to. Because…” He hesitated, somehow unsure if he was right or even wanted but Harry was nothing if not stubborn and he had set on this course so he’d be damned if he strayed now.  
“Because you look like you need someone in your corner and I know what it’s like to have no one. And I think we could learn to make this work into something not so damn painful for the both of us.”

Tom was staring at him like he held the answers to the universe but was presenting them on a giant bay leaf in ancient Greek.  
Then, to Harry’s surprise, he started to laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes streaming.  
“Every time, Every damn time I think I’ve got you sussed you always surprise me master.”  
“I excel at that haven’t you heard.” Harry winked and cuddled Tom closer as the fire started to die. He felt more than heard it when Tom huffed; Tom’s whole right side was pressed against Harry’s chest and he would be lying if he said he minded. Tom’s body was warm, despite their earlier disaster and he didn’t seem to mind their closeness as he nuzzled into Harry’s shirt, ever so slowly, like if he pretended to be subtle Harry wouldn’t notice.

He chose not to comment and ran his hand through the sweaty mop that were Tom’s curls. It was only because they were so close that Harry felt the vibrations of what must have been a fucking purr from Tom’s throat through his chest.  
While it nearly made him giggle hysterically it also eased some of his guilt because all of Toms pain seemed to be gone.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asked warily when their tea had long been cooled and the unconscious trembling had stopped.  
“Yes master.” Tom muttered, lifting his head to answer, now looking even more bleary and tired as he blinked.  
“Good. I never did say thank you for my tea by the way. It was lovely.” Tom giggled.  
“You’re very welcome, Master. My pleasure. Could I, um, try again in the morning?” Tom frowned, trying to remember if Harry even drank tea in the mornings.

“Sure. And you don’t mind doing such menial tasks fits for a house elf?” Harry kept. His tone light even though the desire to know absolutely burned without him. Had he been in this situation not that long ago he would have assumed Tom would have a hissy fit about taking any direction and doing anything for anyone. Yet that seemed to be opposing what Harry could see so far; it was early yet, of course but Tom did seem to do better with clear direction.

“No master. I-I expected to but it was… I don’t know… calming I suppose? I’m happy to serve you sir.”  
“That’s nice to hear. You’re in charge of all my one man tea parties so.”  
Tom grinned. “Yessir.”  
“But for now, what do you say to another good night’s sleep hm?”  
Tom hesitated, eyes straying down so there was no chance of eye contact with Harry.

“Yes master.” There was question on the tip of his tongue, perching there like a waiting toad and he willed himself not to ask it. Don’t get greedy he reminded himself, though his brain trudged through ten times slower with his need to sleep.  
“What is it?” his master murmured, green eyes boring into him far too intensely. He took Tom’s face in his hands and rubbed his cheeks gently. Like all of the man’s other touches it felt so good Tom thought his body would melt into a pile of pooling goo. That was the last thing he expected but nothing was really known about the personal effects on the bond, just how it benefitted the ministry because by all rights Tom should have been panicking like crazy to get away from this caress and yet….and yet.

He lingered on the warm calloused hands of the Potter Lord before shaking himself and trying to remember what the question was.  
“I-um-I-”  
“C’mon Tom, Nice and gentle just tell me, nothing can be done about a problem I don’t know exists.”  
God this type of coaxing should be outlawed, even as a method of interrogation because it made Tom want to spill every dirty secret he’d ever held close in his life. Well, many of them the man already knew but aside from those…  
The words came out almost against his will, the magic drawing them out like removing a ribbon stuck down his throat.  
“IknowIdontDeserveitbutmayIpleasekeepthebed?”

Harry blinked and blinked again. “The bed?” He asked incredulously. “You want to sleep in the bed?”  
Tom flinched back. “Nonono sorry master, no don’t deserve it, slaves don’t deserve nice things.” Tom rocked slightly and tugged at his hair.  
Merlin this was worse than watching Dobby.  
“Tom stop. Be still. Hands down and take a breath.” Harry kept his voice firm and lo and behold it worked, even if a little too well, making Tom a marble statue.  
“Of course you can sleep in the bed. What else is it for?” then he winced. “Don’t answer that.” 

He then sighed and squeezed Tom’s hands with the lightest pressure and declared “You absolutely don’t have to ask me for permission to sleep but if you like and you’re not sure ask. I’d be far angrier if you didn’t do something out of uncertainty than having asked to make sure, you understand me? That goes for absolutely everything. Even if it means a thousand questions a day.” Harry was most firm on this point, remembering and hating vivid shrieks of “Don’t ask questions, boy!”.

Tom stared at Harry, mouth slightly agape. It didn’t aid his gaunt look and made him seem like a scarcely covered broken skeleton, which honestly wasn’t as far off as one might think.  
“Yes master.”  
“Good, say it for me again.”  
This was familiar pattern and something eased in Harry’s chest as he heard Tom obediently repeat it back. 

“Wonderful job, I know how frightening this is but we’ll get you there don’t you worry.” Tom nodded like a bobble head and Harry smiled before prompting encouragingly.  
“Want to try your question again?”

“May I please use the bed master? It’s just it was so soft and I-”  
“You may of course. Is there anything else you need?”  
Embarrassment squirmed in Tom’s stomach needlessly, as it was a well familiar scene in his recent life and inhaled before trying to choose his phrasing.  
“Would-would I be able to use um could I may I pleaseusethelavatory master?”  
Harry accepted that with grace and didn’t sneer or laugh as Tom had feared and the relief made him want to cry although he was primarily focused on not soiling himself on his second evening with his master. He had no doubt the man would be thoroughly disgusted with him then. 

“Of course you may. Well done for asking. Do you remember where it is?”  
Tom nodded with his cheeks a luminous red flush. He was not a child and yet the simple praise made him feel so utterly giddy. But he would take his galleons as they dropped and kissed his master’s boots before fleeing the scene with the utmost prejudice. 

His relief as he splashed water on his face was unparalleled. It was reassuring to know that all his bodily functions were working as they were supposed to, no doubt due to all the potions his master had shoved down his throat when he arrived and Merlin had it only been a day, the longest one ever. Tom raised his head to look at himself in the mirror and blanched away. He looked more skeletal now then he had as a disfigured snake creature, his skin stretched like playdoh over his cheekbones. He shuddered before deciding mirrors were a no go and hurried down the hallways, much brighter and cleaner then the Noble House of Black had ever been, he was sure. 

His master waylaid him in the hall and ushered him up the stairs with firm gestures and soft hands when Tom stumbled a great deal more than once in the old house.  
“It’salright. Watch your step now.” Harry soothed when Tom apologised for the fourth time. He was sure the stairs hadn’t seemed quite so long this morning. He felt rather glad, despite his earlier mishap, to go to bed with no punishments awaiting him. Even his punishment earlier had been accidental his master had said. Accidental! Tom had never heard the likes of it.  
When they finally reached the door, his master placed a hand under his bowed chin and stared at him for a long moment..

“Stay in bed until I come get you tomorrow morning. Don’t move so much as a leg until I give you instructions otherwise, clear? I’ll lay out your instructions for the day and your task that should keep you relatively busy.” Tom wasn’t sure if that smirk was playful or not and nodded his consent rapidly before he as bid entrance to his room. He collapsed gratefully on the bed, snuffling into the pillows as he concluded he’d much rather choke up all that blood and face that burning pain than give up something so soft.


	11. Chapter Eleven

** Chapter Eleven **

The next morning Harry stood in front of Toms door with no small amount of trepidation. If his plans for today went smoothly they would be set for a long long time in a functional rhythm and if not well… Harry was very adaptable.  
He gave a quick rap on the door and stepped inside.  
“Good Morning.” He paused to allow Tom’s dutiful reply and noted the gravelly tone. His throat would need checking especially after yesterday’s debacle and Harry’s shoddy healing attempts. But that was all for later.  
“For this morning, I want you to get washed and dressed, there is a grey robe in the closet and a pair of house shoes underneath them, and come down into the kitchen. Kreacher has made breakfast, you can retry your hand at a cup of tea, same set up as last night and bring it through to the dining room. Any questions?”

When Tom shook his head and fixed Harry with an almost ridiculously determined look, he let himself smile.  
“Good. You have twenty minutes.” Not waiting another beat he flounce down to the dining room and waited, cracking open the utter trash rag that was the Daily Prophet while he waited.  
Much to his utter pleasure he wasn’t waiting long, only 12 minutes to be exact and said as such to Tom when he set the tea tray down with shaking arms. 

“Well done.” The quiet praise made Tom smile, almost preening as he bit his lip and stirred Harry’s tea.  
“Go ahead, make yourself a cup and sit down. 4 spoons of milk and 2 sugars.” He suggested as an afterthought, not wanting the inevitable panic when Tom couldn’t remember how he liked his tea. And Merlin didn’t that just enrage Harry. How destroyed must ones mind be to not recognise basic likes and dislikes? No matter they could build both up together as a rewards and consequences exercise, if all went well. 

Harry felt a flutter of hope as Tom obeyed these orders to the letter too, taking his tea and sitting to quietly eat his breakfast, eyes down and utterly silent. It would have been peaceful had it not been for the gaudy collar on Tom’s neck straining to be eye catching and remind Harry that this was in no way a normal rodeo trip with a new sub right now. The sobering thought crashed him back down to earth and he pushed his breakfast away, his appetite gone. He did swig back his tea though, as Tom put in so much effort and really for the best because it was a tasty cuppa. 

Tom froze in front of him for just a second before placing his own spoon down. Irritation flickered in Harry’s chest and he seized onto his Occlumency with all his might, hoping to not let that affect the bond. When Tom didn’t budge except for a flinch, likely feeling Harry’s annoyance but no repercussions, that concluded his experiment and he took a mental note to look into it more later. 

“Finish that.” He snapped at Tom who began to shovel spoonful’s into his moth in response. Guilt weighed Harry down until he sighed and said “Tom stop before you make yourself sick.”  
Tom stopped gratefully and swallowed the last of his breakfast, oatmeal covering his face. 

“I’m-I’m sorry master.”  
“S’alright. Not your fault. Come on then.”  
When Harry rose to leave the kitchen Tom hastily wiped his face and followed, at exactly 3 steps behind him.  
“Taaaadaaa.” He waved jazz hands towards the doors shoved into the whole wall of the corridor and watched Tom swallow with a lump of trepidation extremely large. 

He pushed open the big oak doors and let Tom in to the Black Family Library. The unbridled awe in his gaze was truly something else as he forgot himself and everyone else in the world too as he stared around the shelves of dusty books.  
Harry didn’t think he was imagining the whispered “Wow” that escaped Tom lips and it only confirmed he made the right choice in choosing this for Tom’s first little job. He couldn’t just sit all day every day, he’d get horribly bored and no doubt the bond would resist that terribly. 

“So, your job now is to sort dust and catalogue each of these books.” He waved to a little alcove with an old rickety chair and desk. “there’s parchment over there, you can sort them however you wish.” He then pulled the list from his pocket and handed it in to Tom’s shaking hands. 

“This is a list of muggle books you’ll find on the desk. Bring them into the sitting room after dinner.”  
Tom blinked slowly and Harry was mindful to send waves of patience and reassurance over the bond as his brain tried to process all the information. 

“Tell me what you’ve to do.” He commanded softly.  
“Sort, dust and catalogue these books master and bring the ones from the desk inside.” Harry rewarded Tom’s recital with a smile and was pleased to see him return a trembling twitch of his lips.  
“Very good. I’ll leave you to it.” He rested a hand upon Tom’s head, cupping gently and said “Do you remember what I told you last night?”  
He could practically see Tom’s mind race to choose the applicable wording from the many they exchanged last night. 

“To-to ask master? If I’m not sure?”  
“Exactly. Very good.”  
Tom wet his lips with his tongue, eyes darting back and forth over the carpeted floor. Harry could feel his utter uncertainty as though it were his own and then said  
“Go on then. Ask.”  
“H-how-how will-can i-but-I-I” eventually Tom blushed utter red in mortification and clamped his lips shut before finally managing an  
“I’m sorry Master.”  
“It’s alright, try again pet.” Harry crooned wondering if it was maybe too soon for something like this and yet thinking that was also his own desire to simply sit Tom on his lap and spoil him foregoing all necessary rules and boundaries. That would be the opposite of helpful, so Harry stayed firm in this decision. 

“How will I-am I permitted to come-may I leave here master-if-you said-” and then he cringed, knowing throwing his masters own words back at him was dreadfully disrespectful.  
“If-if I need you can I come get you?” Tom finally whispered, when Harry did not reply except to look at him expectantly. 

“Of course. I expect you to do so. I’ll be here most of the day anyway and be assured I’ll let you know if I need to pop out, alright?” Tom nodded eagerly, whether he was happy at the idea of having something to do or Harry going out for a while he didn’t know but decided it didn’t matter much anyway. 

Harry had settled himself in front of the Floo with Kingsley and let the man’s soothing tones wash over him as he tried to wrangle his thoughts from drifting to Tom, not sure if it was distrust or worrying in his chest that kept insisting he check on Tom right now at this very moment. 

“Why don’t you just step through Lord Potter?” Kingsley sighed eventually, the change in pace distracting Harry enough to allow him to grin sheepishly.  
“Sorry about that Minister.” he would give Kingsley some good grace, having been the first to recognise Harry’s dislike of his organisation and also the first to use Harry’s requested formalities.  
He could tell Shacklebolt desperately wanted to ask about his new house guest and was only restraining from doing so through sheer political politeness. Once a Gryffindor always a Gryffindor. And everyone knew it wasn’t polite to enquire about another man’s possessions. 

“Very well.” He rose from the fire as the call disconnected and strolled back to the library. Tom was surrounded by books, the back shelves cleared and the front ones filling up… in order of alphabetical by author it seemed. He was also more than half way through if Harry had to guess. Very good, he had anticipated the task taking far longer, even days, but it seemed Tom was to surpass many of his expectations. 

Harry hummed approvingly and startled Tom who leapt from his crouched position and stumbled back against the bookshelves. He had long stopped monitoring his masters emotions after they had conveyed nothing but boredom for the last while and had thought himself safe to get lost in his mindless wondrous drudgery of a coveted task. 

“I’m sorry master I didn’t-I didn’t see you.”  
“Its OK. I’m popping to the-a meeting for a bit, I won’t be long ok?”  
Tom bowed and probably would have knelt in deference has there not been books stacked neatly in his way. 

“Y-yes master. Thank you.” He sounded painfully shy but it would have to do as Harry nodded curtly and swept away, wanting nothing more than for all the bureaucratic nonsense he had to deal with to go away. 

Tom looked at the shelves of books with a degree of pride. The shelves themselves were sparkling and the books covers polished and buffed until they shined in their leather casings. His cloth was filthy, him having made the most of it to scrap every inch of dirt he could find but yet, as he looked down the smattering of grey on the floor his brow crinkled. His master had said to dust the books which he had done but Tom doubted the man would be best pleased if he left the floor in such a state. The rebellious part of him wanted to leave it as it was, daring the man to say something but the collar immediately vetoed that idea, sending tremors of pain up his arms at even the thought. Tom was far too afraid to push the boundaries now and see exactly what would annoy his master so he would do all was asked of him to the best of his ability. 

So despite his raw hands and shaky body he whispered “Um, Kreacher?”  
“What is masters Tom be wanting?”  
The grizzled old elf peered at him from the very corner of the door.  
“Um… could… would master mind if I, I’m looking to clean the floor you see, could I get… maybe a new cloth or-”  
The elf stared at him and then snapped “Yes yes Kreacher will fetch.”

Relief tumbled through Tom so starkly he allowed himself to sink against the wall as a new cloth and brush appeared as well as a bucket of water that Tom cringed upon the sight of, vividly able to imagine his master pushing his head into it if he displeased him.  
Nonetheless he would make this work and slacking off wasn’t going to pay his dues so he tucked in and dipped both cloth and elbow into the water gingerly. 

He was on the last corner of the floor, panting and leaning on the short brush at this point when something flickered in the back of his mind. Far too tired and sore to register it Tom only blinked and concentrated particularly hard on an old burn stain that coated several floor panels as he squeezed the cloth determinedly. 

“What on earth are you doing?” his masters voice was stern as he demanded answers and Tom tripped all over himself to spin around to answer.  
“I’m so sorry master, forgive me, I-ah-I-”  
He paused to breathe when the bond sent a warning tremor though him, promising him pain if he continued to delay his master.  
“There was dust on the floor master. So I was-I was cleaning it.”  
Praying his only explanation was good Enough Tom waited with bated breath as Harry surveyed the room with his expression blank and the bond resolutely silent. He seemed to approve as he huffed and pushed said approval onto Tom. It made him nearly purr as he tilted his head in the man’s direction in ecstasy.

“Well done, Tom. You’ve done a wonderful job. I think it’s well time for a break now. We’ll take dinner in the living room for a wee change. I’ll have to come up with some more little jobs for you, I had thought that would take you longer to complete. ” He winked at the last words and swept away, Tom almost hurrying to follow before he stopped to grab the books from the desk. 

Did-did his master mean the task wasn’t to be finished by the end of the day? Tom thought enviously of all the time he could have spent with the wonderful books in the vast library and felt a stone drop into his stomach. His master had never permitted him to read, and a slaves education was never encouraged anyway. Dismissing the traitorous, greedy thoughts he focused on following his master and not tripping over the few remaining uneven floor panels.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Harry greeted him with a smile as he settled down against the chair, the books a comfort by his folded legs.   
“Everything alright?”  
Tom was grateful to nod, knowing his master surely meant his task and not himself obviously.   
“Very much so master, th-thank you.”  
“Of course. Here you are then.”  
Tom eyed the mug offered to him with so much trepidation it may well have been an irritated honey badger. 

The liquid looked utterly non-threatening and when the time for doddering had passed, Tom took a small sip. And then another. It was good, a lemon and honey mixture if he had to guess. Clearly his master was aware of the swollen burning at the back of his throat. He hummed in joy already feeling the swelling reduce and the heat soothed his raw hands. Before he was really aware of it the cup was empty and his head was lolling against the chair leg of his masters seat. For all he’d lived through in the world he truly never thought this was where he’d end up. Nearly 50 years of his life had been spent in a mad jumble, confused and dazed not really aware of what had been happening. It made him shudder to think it was not so dissimilar to how his father had felt under the influence of love potion that had inevitably led to his own creation, an event which he amongst thousands of others no doubt regretted. 

Still, despite the insanity of this situation, what with being slave bound and all, Tom felt there was nowhere he would rather be and certainly nowhere else he’d be treated this well or with so much… respect. For that’s what it was, respect and a heavy dose of pity added for good measure, for Potter had been led around aswell, played like a puppet like a string and leading them both to fight like an enraged spoiled child smashing his toys together until one of them broke beyond repair. But in Dumbledore’s case both of his toys had splintered and broke like he had planned but, when he was gone, had dragged themselves back to be fixed, clawing and kicking their way up. The metaphor amused him and he let out a huff of air, drawing Harry’s attention to him.

“Time for dinner Tom.” At the direct address Tom sat up straight, the tiredness forcibly pushed back so he could respond correctly.   
“Right away master.” He bent his upper body from where he sat and placed down his cup so he could scramble up to his feet and fetch his masters food. He supposed he was perhaps hoping for another rewarding dose from his masters side of the bond. 

While there was no magical reward his master did squeeze his shoulder when he knelt to offer the tray. His master chewed on pasta happily, spearing pieces with his fork just in Tom’s eyeline. Soon Tom noticed the sounds of eating had stopped and he felt the tension make his shoulder seize. 

“Tom… did you eat today?” Eat? Without his masters permission? Amnesiac and confused he may be but Tom was not stupid and hastened to assure him.   
“No master I promise. Nothing.” His master sighed and Tom felt the disappointment hit him as he silently started to panic.   
“Master I-I”  
“Hush Tom, be still. Hands on your lap and breathe for me now.”  
Tom did as bid, delighted with the ebbing calm that took over as he inhaled. 

“Good boy. Here open your mouth.”   
Tom flinched back in horror, well familiar of the aftermath of those words as he bitterly wondered why he’d even bothered to think Potter could be trusted.   
“No Tom, open your eyes and look at me.”  
Tom kept his eyes screwed shut tight for a second longer before resigning himself as he leaned forward and opened his eyes and mouth. He flinched when it was not his masters flesh that met his mouth but the cold metal of a fork. His hands went from under him in surprise and he would have hit his head yet again had his masters reflexes not caused him to lunge and cradle Tom’s head in his hand. 

Tom huddled up on his knees and stared up at the man regretfully, not daring to let a word escape his lips.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you being cautious but I’ll reiterate, that’s not how things work around here. Try again.” he held out the fork, the piece of penne looking so tempting Tom really did want to just take it and be dammed the price he would have to pay.  
“C’mon. This is the best way to establish a little trust and I think you can do it.” His master quiet belief in him was what made Tom slink forward and open his mouth again.

He flinched less and less each time as nothing changed and hurt or suddenly tasted awful in his mouth as the bowl slowly emptied. Tom, feeling brave, let his master tip some apple juice into his mouth with his eyes closed and his cheek resting on the man’s hand.  
The meal was warm and satisfying and Tom hummed, the earlier drink having soothed the scabbing forming in his throat.

“Thank you very much master.” He murmured, trying to push sincerity through the bond and uncertain if he didn’t just fling his every raw emotion at the man. He tried for a smile nervously and his master nearly cooed in response.  
“Clever boy.” He tousled Tom’s hair much to his joy and opened his ankles and motioned for Tom to sit on the cushion he plodded down.

Tom preened under his hand as he was guided to his new position, sleep making his eyes heavy after his day of work.  
“If you think you can mange feel free to pick a book from the ones you brought in.” his master whispered as the pieces clicked. 

Ah. Of course his master wanted them in here so he could monitor Tom making use of approved reading material only. Made sense he supposed. But he was grateful to finally read again he supposed it didn’t really matter.  
“Yes master. Thank you.” A scratch against his scalp was his only reply as he plucked the first one from the pile and stared at “The Princess Bride” in confusion. What an odd title. Nonetheless he cracked it open and began to read, just on the off chance there would some kind of quiz or test later. Tom was perhaps considering that there would not be and maybe his master only meant him to read for pleasure but that would be simply ridiculous. So Tom tried to commit information to memory and found it an easy challenge, the tale invigorating and amusing as he chuckled to himself through the chapters. He had only reached chapter 3 when he felt his eyes grow heavy again. Tom was surprised to feel disappointment when the words began to swim before his eyes and he was forced to close them. 

His attention was snapped back as he felt the book being slipped from his hands. Unbidden, a mewling little cry escaped his lips before he could clamp a hand over his mouth to stop the wanting noise.   
His master looked at him strangely and then back to the book with wide, alight eyes.   
“It’s alright.” He murmured. “I’m not taking it. Its still yours but its definitely time for you to get some sleep. You can have a quick shower if you want but be careful ok? No more slipping.”

Recognising a dismissal when he heard one, Tom nodded frantically, glad he wasn’t being punished for wanting above his station. It was very curious, his master said still his. But nothing was his he was a slave, unable to own property. Even more curious he considered, as he bowed and bid Harry goodnight, was that he master had not been angered by him but only felt rather… sad.

Tom was too tired to muse on this anymore and ran the shower plenty hot with a grateful sigh as his muscles began to loosen and his hands relax. He emerged gingerly from the bathroom this time, eying carefully to make sure there was no one waiting expectantly for him when he was naked and vulnerable and blinked at the sight that waited him. Soft cloth pyjamas, a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion, a little jar of salve already popped open and, most delightedly, the book he had begun not minutes earlier. 

Tom didn’t dare read anymore but hesitantly applied the salve to the callouses risen from his earlier work and dutifully drank the potion when he slipped between the covers. He had his masters permission to sleep in the bed still, he thought, and it had only been a few nights but it was the most wondrous thing.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

It was rather surprising for Tom that the days following were mostly the same. His master would come fetch and dress him each morning, Tom would make tea, they would eat breakfast, Toms coming with a strict regimen of potions, and while his master did whatever he did in the afternoons, be it paperwork or meetings, he would always assign Tom a task. So far he had organised every cupboard, dusted most all of the shelves of old delicate china, done copious amounts of filing that he had hesitantly admitted-to his masters amusement-that he found rather fun and he got to do other little things like sharpen his masters quill and burn every copy of the Daily Prophet he could find. It made him giggle and also feel lightheaded with relief because maybe being able to use sharp tools or the fire meant his master was finally happy with him and maybe trusted him just a little. Tom was nearly over the moon, so much so that he didn’t even mind being sat here shining all his masters shoes. It was, like all of his other tasks, perfectly routine and mind numbing. 

By his own estimate it was a little over two weeks when his master interrupted him mid shining, shoe polish on his hands, cheeks and clothes. His master had been feeling rather amused for a few minutes before Tom had turned around to realise the man was silently laughing at Tom cursing out the slippery bottle of polish.  
“I-um-I’m sorry master.”  
“It’s quite alright. C’mon, up you get,” He tossed shoes at Tom and brushed off his hands. “Time for a walk I think.”

Toms brain whirred and creaked before short-circuiting completely. A walk? Like outside? It had been so long. Tom knew he should have felt exhilarated and possibly plotted for an escape but all he felt was a knot of utter apprehension in his stomach as he pulled on the thick shoes under his slacks. Something was going to wrong, it just had to. He knew it.

He nearly tripped in his haste to run after his master and stood waiting eagerly by the door, bouncing a little on his heels. He felt a little like an overexcited puppy, panting at the sight of a leash but in the past times he had been with his master the man had never removed taken broken or burnt anything Tom had taken a liking to. So he felt alright to give his master a beaming smile as he ambled down the long hall. 

“Calm down Tom.” His master still felt amused so it wasn’t a reprimand, he knew that, but his body still responded to orders and went still. His master approached him and held out a jacket to him.  
“Its cold. C’mere.” Tom did so and his master bundled him up in a thick jacket, a scarf and after a considering hum, held up a hat.  
“I don’t think I’ll delay you anymore by trying to jam this on your head. But some grounds rules before we go.” He took a deep breath. “You do what I say, when I say it. You agree to whatever I say, you won’t speak to anyone and you will not leave my side, is that clear?”  
“Yes master, I promise.” Tom said solemnly, dismissing any thoughts of just turning the wrong way and keeping walking. The collar would never let him and besides, Tom had no wand, no money, not a shred of magic to speak of and no actual will to be all alone in the world again. 

His master seemed satisfied and led him by the elbow out the door and stepped them straight into London, the world blurring as they apparated. The city was bustling and crowded and didn’t smell all that great but Tom inhaled a deep breath anyway, feeling the sun on his face for the first time in years even if it was tempered by a sharp wind.

Harry had let him stop and close his eyes to breathe. The man was looking at him rather curiously and the bond was no help to determine what he was thinking because Tom didn’t recognise that emotion that niggled in his brain, like a mouse ringing a bell. 

“Come along then.” His master said before striding off, his steps large and confident as Tom trotted after him. He looked around as fast as he could, taking in the most beautiful sight of grey buildings and smoke and cars and steam and relished being in London, even if it was muggle London. He couldn’t have smothered the smile on his face if he’d tried, the cheer giving him a small pep to his step. However much Tom wanted to run and tumble around he was very careful to stay respectfully behind his master but not enough to draw them unnecessary attention. Or so he hoped. 

They veered into a park, Tom only stumbling a bit at the strange 3 way gate guarding the entrance. The park was so serene Tom honestly though that this must be what heaven felt like.  
Until it all went to hell. 

He had been busy staring up to the sky when something came crashing into his knees and made him stop with a grunt. He peered down at the small sticky child in front of him as she stared at him with watery eyes. 

“Hush-hush, it’s alright,” He pleaded, bending down to hand her the toy she’d dropped, a dirty looking ragdoll which he hastily brushed down before trying to shove it back to her.

Much to Tom’s utter horror this did nothing to appease the small muggle who erupted into large wailing tears, drawing the attention of her furious mother and his master. When both stormed towards him Tom cringed, loosing his hunkered balance before crashing to his back on the damp hard ground. He didn’t get a chance to stay on the ground and lament for long, however, as he was hauled up by his shirt collar as his master dragged him over to the crowded bushes ahead, trees branches and broken glass bottles marking his leg and, when he fell briefly, cutting a nice slice into his left shin as his ankle bent under the pressure. 

Tom moaned as the bond sparked, sensing his masters rage and pain lanced his bones. “Master please I-”  
“Shut up! Don’t you dare say another word!”  
His master hissed, forcibly apparating them both into the townhouse as the bond sealed Tom’s lips shut. His whimpers were ignored he hobbled along desperately. Blood trickled down onto his shoes, his knee having been sliced right open and Mercy Lewis he could still feel the glass sticking out of it. 

“I told you to stay with me, I was very clear about the rules. Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d both be in if I can’t clear up what happened today, our magic all over that muggle park? Is that what you want?” Tom shook his head back and forward as vehemently as he could, his voice entrapped by his masters will. 

It seemed he wasn’t allowed to explain yet again, not for the first time in his life as the man marched him over to the corner.  
“Hands against the wall!” he barked and suddenly there was a wand in his neck and he was back in his Azkaban cell the guards poking and jeering him. 

Pleasepleaseplease. Tom wanted to beg the man to please listen, to say he hadn’t done a thing but he could only shake wordlessly as he braced himself against the wall, presuming the man was going to whip or beat him now. The period of grace and kindness was over it seemed and now Tom as truly in for it.

“Oh for Salazar’s sake, keep that bloody foot up too.” His master snapped, rage filling his tone as he noticed Tom’s pain. So Tom did as bid, standing in the corner of the room where he’d only last night felt so safe, braced his hands against the cool plaster and tried to balance on one foot as his body protested the treatment and the bond protested the waiting of his punishment. 

Tom could hear Harry breathing behind him and couldn’t stop himself from shaking in terror. His master sighed behind him when the floo chimed and he stuck his head in to hear the message. 

He pulled back out and rubbed a hand over his face. “I have to go.” He said suddenly. “Don’t you dare move until I’m back. Not an inch.”  
Tom nodded to ensure his cooperation as his body jerked, the bonds magic alighting his pain receptors.  
The man was gone without another word and Tom began to sob. Sensing his masters rage and no fulfilling punishment, the pain increased two-fold until it nearly felt like a constant Cruciatis curse. 

Tom could hear the clock tick on the wall, as the pain began to build and build until Tom was silently howling, unable to have even the release of a proper scream.

His master didn’t return. Not for hours upon hours. The clock had already chimed 5 times for the hour and Tom thought surely he would die soon. He must. Please. 

At least he’d learned his lesson he supposed. Even if his master was a clear victim of Dumbledore’s mechanism too. That didn’t make him trustworthy. Stupid. Clearly the fragile trust Tom had bestowed upon him was misplaced and worthless. His master was not to be trusted. He said he hadn’t wanted this, didn’t believe in pain to punish and wasn’t in this to hurt Tom like the rest of the world. Then why was he left here in crippling agony? Tom wished more than anything he had the courage to drop to the floor and just curl up through the pain though the bond had kept him firmly in one position.  
His blood was draining by the minute, his body was seizing with pain and his mouth was so so dry. Oh well. It was nothing he didn’t deserve. 

Tom was a sobbing agonised mess by the time he heard any other sound but the clock.  
The chiming of the floo was the best and worst thing Tom thought he’d ever heard.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

He heard his masters footsteps re-enter the room before they sped up and he was pulled from his position at the wall. Thankfully, mercifully the pain stopped with the mans touch, though the aftershock tremors wrecked through Tom’s body. 

“Morgana below, Tom have you been stood like this since I left?”.   
Confused and in pain, Tom only squinted, not able to see much aside from where he faced his masters’ chest.  
“Fuck I’m sorry. We went with the Obliviator squad, just in case those muggles suspect anything about magic at all and turns out they didn’t. She just… overreacted. As did I and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you were never meant to be in any pain, please know that I mean that. I’m going to find a way to take that from the collar I swear. Even if I can’t remove it altogether I’ll lessen it as I can.”

Tom could hardly believe his ears and blinked rapidly to clear his head. Lies, he told himself, remember it’s all lies.   
He nodded, his master not having revoked his prohibition to speak and he wouldn’t have trusted himself to do so anyway. God, he hurt. Everything fucking hurt. Again. 

Harry knelt down beside Tom, his brow furrowed in concern at the lack of response. Tom had never been anything but prompt, and, lately, enthusiastic in his response but now… Something foreboding churned in Harry’s gut as he looked at Tom’s collapsed figure. He was trembling slightly, jerking in a reminiscent way that belatedly reminded Harry of Cruciatius victims. Tom was obviously in a lot of pain and as Harry clicked his fingers for Kreacher, he tried to keep Tom talking, keep him conscious as his eyes drooped closed. 

“Tom?! Can you answer me?”   
“Yes master.” It was a soundless rasp as Tom’s eyes lifted but not enough to meet Harry’s as he struggled to push his body up. 

It was much worse than he had thought, as he stopped cold with potion bag in hand. There was a triangular shard of glass emerging from Tom’s leg, a sickly bottle green colour. His ankle wasn’t much better, so swollen and bruised it was bigger than Hagrid’s fist. And he’d been supporting his weight on the other leg for a little over five hours. Merlin Harry had really fucked it up this time.   
He reached his hands down to slice Tom’s trouser leg open and he flinched back, harder than their first altercation. When Harry eventually managed to expose the wound, Tom was in so much pain his eyes were dead and empty, staring glassily at nothing.   
“Tom. I’m so sorry. This never should’ve happened-I shouldn’t have left you-fuck I’m so so sorry.”  
He let Tom down. He had spent so much of his time preaching for Tom to trust him and at the first true opportunity Harry had underestimated him and then seriously seriously hurt him. Harry put his head in his hands and took as many deep breaths as his lungs would allow to stop the hysterical tears from flooding open. 

Harry only allowed himself to feel self pity for a moment before shaking himself together and rising up with all the determination he used to wrangle slimy politicians into doing his bidding. Soon he had gathered his supplies and placed a plastic water cup to Tom’s lips softly. 

“Please, drink something.” Tom obeyed, gulping mechanically until the glass emptied and swallowed the following pain reliever with no fuss or surprise or any emotion at all. Harry felt foreboding rise in his stomach at Tom’s dark blank eyes but pushed it aside so he could focus on his leg, wrapping the ankle and gently coaxing the glass out. He poured a generous amount of the disinfecting salve on it, like it would solve his guilt. Tom didn’t flinch or move once, his eyes flickering back and forth, aware of the room again but entirely completely weary and unforgiving as the fragile trust they had built disintegrated into nothing. 

Soon there was nothing physically wrong with Tom at all, yet Harry felt like there was a crater blown in his chest. Why had he reacted as he had and not even thought to check after the bond, to make sure Tom wasn’t being punished for something that wasn’t his fault? He’d left Tom alone and injured for hours, though he’d meant to only be gone seconds, but in his panic…no there was no excuse. The way he’d behaved in response was far worse and made him no better than any ministry personnel who he’d chewed out over Tom’s treatment. 

“I’ll get you some dinner, ok, how does that sound?” He tried for a smile but felt his face grimace as not a facial muscle twitched in response. Tom was locked down tight now, Harry thought. Every emotion and thought could be used a weapon and Harry would be given no ammunition come heaven or hell. Tom’s side of the bond was blocked, an empty void that must have been taking all of his control to project. The feeling was terrifying. 

Harry sighed again, feeling so incredibly old and tired he wanted to chug draught of the living death and wake up to a better or destroyed world. He left Tom in peace, curled up in foetal position on the couch and hastily commanded he eat. The sight of food made his stomach roll and Harry ran before collapsing in front of the toilet bowl to release every morsel he’d eaten that day. He laid his head against the cool porcelain bowl as he wondered how he was going to fix this or if he even could. It was easy to build Tom’s trust in him from nothing, but it would be a herculean task to renew it, nigh impossible. 

When he had checked Tom’s injuries for the fifth time that night and fed him all the required doses of the only potions tonic known to lessen the Cruciatis curse effects, Harry could do no more and sent Tom to bed. Despite his best gentle efforts, Tom had shied away from his touch at the slightest offer of help and Harry had been forced to let him stumble up the stairs on his own, for fear one wrong flinch could very well snap both of their necks.   
‘The Boy Who Lived: Done in by Stairs.’ He could see the headline now. 

Harry rubbed a weary hand over his jaw, scratching at the stubble and yawning big and wide. He couldn’t let this happen again. Their situation was tough enough and their growing trust fragile enough that this was the last thing Harry needed right now. Tugging on his house robes and quickening his steps, he threw open the library doors and prepared himself for a long night of study.


End file.
